


the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago

by BearWithAHat



Series: nautical [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 1840's au, Bathing/Washing, Blood, Blow Jobs, Boats, Crossdressing, Existentialism, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Lando is younger here, M/M, Moby Dick References, Nautical homoeroticism, Neck Kissing, Period-Typical Homophobia, Philosophy, Sea Voyages, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing a Bed, Whales, Whaling, Whaling au, classic literature lol, for all you horny people out there, gay whalers lol, in the 5th chapter lmao, in the 7th chapter, sailor bfs, stab wounds, tbh this is just inspired by Moby dick but without everyone dying <3, that's definitely an uncommon tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearWithAHat/pseuds/BearWithAHat
Summary: Charles Leclerc, a young man with little fortune, decides to take up a job on the sea aboard a whaling boat. A mysterious captain, a voyage around the world, and a handsome harpooner take him by storm, permanently changing his life. Whether it's for better or worse he's not sure he'll ever be able to figure out.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Kimi Räikkönen/Sebastian Vettel
Series: nautical [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076282
Comments: 41
Kudos: 168





	1. The Prancing Horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh goodness this marks my third multi-chapter fic that i have going on right now 😭 im having fun writing all three tho so that’s all that matters :) 
> 
> This is kind of a moby dick AU, but I’m not tagging it as that because I’m not gonna have the plot be exactly the same as MD lol, especially not the ending oop. Anyways, you don’t have to have read moby dick to enjoy this fic but if you haven’t read it then I would recommend it! It’s a really fun read. 
> 
> I’ve gotta admit that ‘nautical homoeroticism’ is probably my favorite tag I’ve ever used. it’s just so funny for some reason. 
> 
> enjoy ❤️

Charles Leclerc breathed in the salty sea air, the coolness filling his lungs and rejuvenating him as he stepped onto the train station platform in New Bedford. Massachusetts was new territory to him, and he eagerly looked around the train station, clutching the small suitcase which held his few belongings.

All around him people rushed by. Mothers, children, businessmen, lovers, and everything in between walked the platform, each in search of someone or some place unique. He was lost in his thoughts, watching everyone go by, until somebody bumped into him from behind, shouting, "hey, get a move on pal!"

The young man mumbled an apology and joined in the undulating sea of people walking about. The train he had arrived on let out a great puff of smoke and slowly began to pull out of the station as Charles strolled down the wooden platform and stepped out onto the cobblestone streets.

Brick buildings and storefronts surrounded him, sidewalks flanking either side of the street. In the distance he could see the docks and the tall posts of ships tied up. Sweet smells of baked bread greeted him as he passed by a bakery, the rich scent of leather next from a tannery.

Charles didn't know exactly where he was going, but he figured that there would be an inn of some sort somewhere that he could take lodging in until he found work, which looked like it wouldn't be too hard given the mount of ships in the harbor. The young man clutched his coat a little tighter to his body as the breeze wrapped around him, pushing him along a path he was making up as he went.

Eventually Charles found himself in front of a dreary looking building at the corner of a street. He could barely make out the name of the place, but he could clearly see that it was an inn, and so he pushed the creaky door open and wandered into the dimly lit sitting room. 

Men old and young sat at the tables that littered the room, chattering amongst themselves and drinking from handmade mugs. Someone was quietly playing the piano in a corner, and the music mixed with the candlelight gave the room a friendly feeling. 

Charles shifted his suitcase into his other hand and made his way up to the counter where the landlord, a quaint little man, sat and eyed him curiously.

"Evening, traveller. Are you looking for lodging I assume?" the landlord asked, flipping through a book.

"Yes sir, only for a couple of days," Charles answered. He watched the landlord look over a page of the book with scrutinizing eyes.

"All of my rooms are full right now, son. Unless you would be okay with sharing a room with one of the harpooners, you'll have to look elsewhere," the man responded sympathetically. 

Charles bit the inside of his cheek and thought the matter over for a minute. He really didn't want to have to sleep with a stranger. It was difficult to sleep with someone right next to him, especially if he didn't know them. However, he had travelled a long way and walked for quite a bit, and the soreness in his legs and back from walking with his luggage compelled him to take what was offered to him, even if it was unappealing.

"That's fine with me, sir," Charles answered, wondering if he was making a good decision.

The landlord smiled and handed him a key before picking up a pencil and asking, "and what's your name, son?"

"Charles Leclerc, sir" he said. The landlord scribbled his name down and then shut the record of customers.

"Alrighty then Mr. Leclerc. Dinner will be served soon, but you have time to go put your things down if you'd like," the landlord politely informed him. 

Charles said his thanks and shuffled into the hallway, inspecting the numbers on the doors lining the hall until he found the one that matched the number on his key. He unlocked the door and knocked to see if his mystery roommate was in. When he got no response, Charles opened the door to see the small room empty.

The harpooner he was to bunk with wasn't in at the moment, but the room was obviously in use as Charles spotted a trunk in one corner, clothes folded on the bed, and a few papers spread out on the desk. The fireplace was not lit, and the candle on the nightstand didn't burn. 

Charles stepped inside and set his suitcase next to the door. He was careful not to disturb any of his roommate's stuff as he slowly walked around the room. Shedding his coat, he folded it and placed it over the back of the chair at the desk. Charles then sat down on the bed and laid back, letting the stiffness in his shoulders melt away as his head sank into the pillow. The ceiling stared back at him as he gazed up at it. 

Some time passed, and Charles only got up from the bed when he heard a bell sound out in the hall, and footsteps shuffling into the front room of the inn. He left the room to find the other guests sitting down to dinner, and he eagerly joined them, taking a seat at the end of a table since he was a stranger among men who seemed to know one another.

A bowl of soup was set in front of him, along with a cup of what Charles assumed was alcohol by the smell, and an unimpressive looking piece of bread.

Raising the metal spoon to his lips, Charles surveyed the other men in the room. Judging by their attire, he figured many of them were seamen, as he had come to New Bedford with aspirations to be. 

Even the youngest of them looked like they had spent years and years on the sea. Wrinkles may not crease their foreheads but there was still a knowing wisdom present in their eyes and in the way they carried themselves, and Charles wondered if he would look the same one day.

The soup didn’t taste like much and the alcohol stung at his throat as he took a swig of it from the cup. Charles nearly spat it back out at the taste, which garnered the attention of the men sitting near him.

“You alright there boy?” laughed the man sitting next to him. Charles forcibly swallowed, gagging uncomfortably, and nodding as best as he could.

"I didn't expect it to be so bitter," he croaked out. 

The older man slapped him on the back and said, "you'll get used to it. Sooner or later it'll taste like water to you."

Charles had a hard time believing that, but he found that he got used to the bitter taste as he ate his meal. 

When he was finished, he approached the landlord once more and asked, "sir, which of these men is the harpooner I'm to sleep with?" 

The landlord squinted his eyes and surveyed the room. He gave Charles a lopsided grin and said, "none of these folks. Your harpooner isn't back yet, he's still out on the town."

"Do you know when he'll be back? I wouldn't want to fall asleep before meeting him," Charles admitted. Part of it was because he didn't want to seem rude, and part of it was because he was honestly a little afraid of whoever was going to sleep beside him. Some of the people in the room looked rather daunting, and Charles figured he'd end up with some terrifying harpooner as his roommate with his luck.

"I can't say for sure. Sometimes he's back pretty early, other nights he's out until dawn. Go to sleep whenever you want, son, I doubt he'll care if you're out cold when he gets back," the landlord reassured him. Charles nodded and slipped back over to the table where he had been sitting.

Across the dimly lit room, a painting on the wall caught his eye. The flickering candlelight and the distance made it difficult to make out what exactly it was a painting of. Dark blues and greys gave the impression of murky waters, and Charles unconsciously found himself standing up and making his way over to the framed painting. 

He stopped a few feet away and gave it a closer look. The dull colors showed a picture of rough seas, a boat entangled in their grasp. Behind the boat, a whale was breaching out of the water, its long body curling backwards into the waves. The people in the boat were tiny, just a few brushstrokes, but Charles couldn't tear his eyes away from them. All of the painted figures were glancing in the direction of the whale. Charles got the feeling that this story did not have a happy ending.

He looked down to the bottom of the frame to see if there was a name for the painting or the artist. All he found was a bronze plate that had ' _the whale'_ inscribed on it.

Charles gave it one last glance before turning around and walking back to his room. It was quite an eerie painting, he decided, and he wondered about it more as he opened the door.

It was darker in the room than it had been before supper, as the sun had sunk lower in the skies. He didn't know what time it was, Charles just knew that he felt worn out and ready to sleep, even if his stranger harpooner roommate hadn't shown up yet.

A box of matches lay on the nightstand next to the bed. Charles took one, struck it against the side of the box, and lit the fireplace, engulfing the room in an amber glow from the flames. He stood near it as he pulled his day clothes off and took a linen nightshirt from his suitcase, slipping it over his thin frame. Yawning, Charles folded his clothes neatly and set them on top of his suitcase. 

Charles pulled the sheets back on one side of the bed and laid down, dutifully making sure not to disturb the harpooner's laundry which was on the other side. Even though he still felt chilled with the fire going and the quilts over him, Charles drifted off into a dreamless sleep quickly.

* * *

The sound of a door creaking and heavy footfalls woke him hours later. Forgetting where he was at first, Charles slowly opened his eyes to see another man in the room, silently setting a bag down and undoing the laces on his boots. It was only when he saw a large harpoon resting against the wall that Charles remembered he was at the inn, and this must be his bedmate. 

He wasn't sure if he should say something or not. With as foggy as his mind felt, he elected to remain quiet. The other man didn't seem to notice him, either that or he knew Charles was there and didn't want to disturb him.

Charles' eyes followed the man as he began to undress near the fire, like Charles had earlier. He knew it was impolite and wholly inappropriate to watch a stranger undress, and it took him a second to realize he was even staring. 

The bed frame creaked as he quickly rolled to face the other direction and give his roommate some privacy. The noise caught the attention of the stranger, and any idea of him knowing Charles was there went out the window as Charles found himself held at knifepoint a second later, and he involuntarily yelped. The man slapped a hand over Charles' mouth until he quieted down.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?" the man hissed frantically. 

Charles gulped nervously at the sight of the knife pressed towards his chest. Clearly the landlord had not told the harpooner that he would be sharing a room, Charles thought as he felt himself tremble, unable to answer at first.

"Uh, my name is Charles. I have to share a room with you because there were no empty rooms, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to intrude or anything, I just was exhausted and didn't want to keep walking until I found somewhere else to stay," Charles pleaded out in a rush. He gasped for breath, his heart racing.

The man seemed shocked, and then embarrassed as he hurriedly put the pocketknife back into his pocket and took a step back from Charles, who was sitting up and clutching nervously at the sheets.

"No no, I should be apologizing, I just nearly stabbed you. Please forgive me, I didn't talk to the landlord when I got back and I didn't know you were here," the harpooner apologized. His voice was pleasant sounding, and Charles couldn't see him well in the near-darkness, but he figured the man was about the same age as him.

"It's alright. I guess I would have been scared too if I saw a stranger in my bed," Charles said. He tried to calm his heart rate and took some deep, controlled breaths, like he had when he first stepped off the train.

"Please, go back to sleep Charles. I'll join you in just a moment," the young man insisted. He shuffled over to the other side of the bed and worked at the buttons on his shirt, adding, "my name is Max by the way."

Charles laid back down into the pillows and said, "well it's nice to meet you Max," before letting his eyes fall shut and trying to fall back to sleep. 

A couple minutes later he felt a dip in the mattress as Max climbed into the bed with him, leaving a respectful distance between them. Charles sighed and tucked himself further underneath the blankets, his anxiety from meeting the harpooner now calm.

He drifted off and ended up sleeping more soundly than he had in his entire life.

* * *

Charles didn't open his eyes immediately upon waking up the next morning. He felt snug and comfortable in the bed, the sheets wrapped around him like he was a baby being swaddled, and his back was pressed up against a firm, warm solidness behind him. When his eyes eventually fluttered open, Charles realized that he was cuddled up against Max, who must have rolled over sometime during the night.

Max had slung his arm over Charles and was embracing him like Charles was his wife. It felt very homely, and Charles didn't try to wake him, though it also felt a bit awkward to be snuggling with a man he met yesterday night. Thus, he lay still, waiting for Max to wake up on his own.

A few minutes later, the arm quickly left his side and Max shifted away, sitting up and putting distance between them again.

"You should have told me you were such a friendly sleeper," Charles joked softly, climbing out of bed and stretching his arms and shoulders. Max chuckled and looked away, and Charles caught a glimpse of a blush on the other man's cheeks. 

"Sorry about that. I'll get dressed over here if you want to dress over there," Max suggested. Charles agreed and fetched his clothes from on top of his suitcase; with that, the two men dressed with their back facing one another. It was the closest thing to seclusion that they could manage.

After they were dressed, the two sat at one of the wooden tables in the front room and ate together. 

Charles got a good look at Max for the first time. The young man had dark blonde hair and clear blue eyes, with just the slightest hint of stubble on his jawline. His long eyelashes brushed his cheeks when he looked down.

"So I understand you're a harpooner?" Charles said. A moment later he felt stupid for asking, as he had been told numerous times that the man was a harpooner and he had seen the damn harpoon for gods sake.

"Yes, I've been whaling since I was a kid. I've been on a couple of voyages, and I'm staying here until I find my next ship," Max explained. He looked Charles over, smiling at him. "What about you? You look a bit out of place here, no offense. You're a bit too pretty to be mingling among this crowd."

Charles looked down at his lap to hide his blush from the compliment. It was true, he looked and dressed a bit differently than the men around them since he was a newcomer to the life of a seaman.

"I was hoping to get a job aboard a ship. Not a harpooner like you, I don't think I have it in me to try and spear a whale, maybe just a simple crewman or something. It was kind of an impulsive decision to come down here. I was in college but I got bored of it, decided I wanted to see the world and get some experience doing something other than sitting in front of books," he said. 

Max grinned at him and said, "college eh? What did you study?"

"Philosophy and literature," Charles answered.

"Impressive. You must be a rather smart guy then, all of that stuff has never been my kind of thing," Max commented.

They ate in silence until they were finished, and Charles wasn't sure what to say. Max broke the silence by saying, "I'm going to go down to the docks and look for ships to sign with. Many of them are getting ready to leave soon and are still taking on crew. You can come with me if you'd like."

Charles eagerly agreed, thankful to have someone experienced with him. They went back to their room to put on their coats, and then they were off to walk to the docks.

Max led the way as they navigated the already crowded streets. Charles kept his eyes on the shoulders of the harpooner to keep track of him, occasionally getting stuck behind a couple other pedestrians.

At one point Max stopped at a corner and waited for Charles to catch up with him. They turned the corner and stepped onto the beginning of the wooden docks. Cargo and barrels sat on each pier, with men loading them onto their respective ships. The smell of the sea salt was much stronger here and Charles could hear the sound of the water lapping against the wood of the ships and the dock. 

“These are cargo ships. The whaling vessels are down towards the end, we’ll talk to the people aboard and find a crew to join,” Max explained, drawing Charles close to him. 

Charles nodded and paid attention to everything that was pointed out to him as they strolled down the dock.

It never came up in conversation, but the two men seemed to mutually agree that they would sign to the same ship; they were to travel the world together and there was nothing else to it.

The end of the dock with the whaling ships was not as crowded as the cargo ships. There were significantly fewer barrels sitting aside and more empty ones being carried onto the vessels.

Charles followed Max onto the decks of multiple ships. Since he didn’t have an ounce of the knowledge and experience that his roommate did, he remained quiet and let Max do most of the talking and questioning. 

Max always gave his opinion to Charles the second they left a boat, whether he thought it was worth signing up to be part of its journey or not. The answer was a resounding no for nearly all of them, and Charles only wished he knew what made them so unappealing.

It was around noon when they arrived at the last of the whaling ships tied up at the dock. 

“ _The Prancing Horse,_ ” Charles read off the dark wood of the ship. 

“Lets give this one a look,” Max whistled, pulling Charles aboard with him.

“Afternoon, gents. What can I do for you?” A short man dressed rather nicely compared to everyone else they had seen so far asked.

“Sir, we’re looking to sign with a whaling ship. When does this boat set out?” Max asked coolly. 

Charles elected to look around. There seemed to be no one else on the boat, either that or they were hiding down below.

“Two days from now. We’ve got room for more crew, so I’d be glad to have you aboard,” the man said cheerfully. He was sitting on a wooden stool with his legs propped up on the side of the ship, leather boots sparkling clean. 

“Are you the Captain of this ship, sir?” Max asked. Charles wasn’t surprised when the man answered no, he was the owner. Though he may know little about whaling, he did know that ships captains didn't normally dress so obscenely wealthy.

“My captain’s asked to have no visitors at the moment, but let me assure you that he knows what he’s doing. I’ve had him in charge of my boat for many years, and you won’t find a more experienced man to lead you around the world,” the man said when Max asked to speak to the captain. 

Max glanced at Charles, who was practically hiding behind his shoulder.

“Are you a whaler, son, or are you looking for work as a crewman?” The owner continued, looking curiously between the pair in front of him.

“I’m a harpooner sir, and a damn accurate one if I may say so. My friend here doesn’t have any experience with whaling, but he’s a smart man and I’d reckon he’d be valuable to you- er, to the captain,” Max said with a confident tone of voice. Charles stepped out from behind him, figuring he shouldn’t hide like a kid behind his mom. 

“I could use you aboard for sure, lad, but I need skillful hands on my ship, so I’m not sure your friend would do good here,” the owner said, politely nodding to Charles. 

He was going to accept his rejection when Max stepped forward and pulled him alongside. 

“With all due respect sir, I won’t sign up if you don’t let my friend come too. He’s been to college and everything, he can learn to work on a ship! We come as a pair; if you want me to work for you, then he has to come too,” Max boldly announced. Charles didn’t know where the hell he had gotten that type of boldness from, and why exactly Max was vouching for him so much made the gears in his head turn.

He figured that that was a problem for another time though, as the man in the chair stood up and shook Max's hand.

"Everyone has to start somewhere I suppose. I'd be happy to have you two work for me then, if you'll just tell me your names so I can record you in the crew log," the owner said with a grin. He pulled a small notebook out of his breast pocket along with a pen.

"Max Verstappen, sir," Max said, nudging Charles to introduce himself.

"My name is Charles Leclerc," Charles said. The man scribbled their names down before tucking his book back into his pocket.

"Very well. You will need to be here around nine in the morning in two days time. This is the last you'll see of me, so allow me to wish you safe travels and good fortune. You'll be in the hands of your captain from here on out," he explained.

Max nodded and said, "thank you, we'll work hard."

With that, they marched off the ship and back onto the pier, now officially signed to the crew of the _Prancing Horse._

Charles had to sprint a couple steps to walk at Max's side, and he blurted out, "why did you stand up for me so much back there?"

Max shrugged and replied, "that was the only way he was ever going to let you sign up. It can be hard to find work on the sea if you have no work experience. I assumed you wanted to come with me, unless I was too presumptuous?"

"Oh, no I certainly do. Like you said, I have no experience with this, and you do; I'd be a bit lost if I went on a different ship," Charles was quick to respond. He hadn't expected Max to help him find work, but he definitely was grateful for it. In a more quiet tone, he added, "also, you're kind of my only friend at the moment. Better to follow a friend than wander away." 

Charles had felt his chest go warm and fuzzy at hearing Max call him a friend multiple times on the boat. He had been unsure if Max even liked him at first, given that the guy literally tried to stab him upon meeting him. Then again, people didn't normally cuddle with those they hated, and Max seemed to genuinely care about him, given that he spent the effort to secure a job for Charles.

_Friends..I have a friend,_ Charles thought. He looked at Max's face, squinting in the sunlight. Knowing that he was with a _friend_ brought back the exciting feeling that had taken him to New Bedford in the first place. 

* * *

When Charles woke up the next morning, he felt the warm embrace of Max's arms around him again, and was securely pressed with his back into his friend's chest. As much as he thought it was embarrassing to admit, Charles found the feeling of Max's weight on his body to be relaxing. Maybe it was just because he wasn't used to the feeling, but being held made him feel safe.

Charles let himself lay there, not wanting to wake Max up for he would surely move away from Charles in an instant. He was afraid it would seem weird for him to say that he enjoyed Max cuddling him.

After a while he heard Max make a noise of surprise and the arm around him began to dart away. Before he could even think not to, Charles rolled over and caught his arm before it could completely leave his side. They were only inches away from each other; Charles could have counted the harpooners individual eyelashes if he so wanted to.

"Max, I..um," he began awkwardly. 

Max didn't push him away or seem disgusted. He let his arm slip around Charles' waist and said, "I get it. Everyone needs to be held every once in a while. Clearly I do, since I seem to just hug in my sleep."

The last bit was meant to be a joke, but Charles saw a pang of loneliness in his eyes that made him feel sorry for Max. It seemed they were both longing for contact.

Charles smiled sleepily at him and tentatively put his arm around Max in return. "Is there a Mrs. Verstappen at home who would be upset at you right now?" he asked. Why he was hoping the answer was no definitely didn't matter, he told himself.

"Nope, haven't had the time to get married, and don't have an interest in it. There's not really a definite home for me either. I end up wherever my ships journey's end and stay until I find another ship to work on," Max answered.

Both of their voices were a little muffled from the pillow, though they could understand each other just fine; it took pillow talk to a rather literal meaning.

"You had a home at one point though. Why did you leave that home to be a whaler?" Charles wondered aloud. 

Max sighed and replied, "I was born in Holland. Father's a businessman, I didn't want to go into his business like he was insisting I would. One day when I was eleven, I wandered out of the house and just kept walking until I was at a dock, and I snuck onto a boat. Didn't even think twice about it," Max explained quietly, "when the crew found me, I was expecting them to throw me overboard or something, but they took pity on me and took care of me. When that ship's voyage ended, I got off that boat and got on another one. Eventually I learned to throw a harpoon, and ever since then I've been living as a whaler."

Charles listened intently to Max. He couldn't imagine what that was like, especially for someone so young to run away like that. Perhaps that's why he's clingy when he's asleep; he's been lonely for so long and craves intimacy, Charles thought.

"Didn't you miss your mother or anything?" he murmured, subconsciously rubbing Max's arm comfortingly.

Max gave him a small smile. "At first I did. To be honest though, I can't imagine any other life for me than the one I have chosen, so I don't regret what I did for a second," he whispered.

They were silent for a moment.

Charles decided to hell with it, and asked, "Max, are you lonely?"

The face across from him looked thoughtful for a few drawn out seconds. "I don't know," he breathed out.

Charles watched the uncertainty flicker on the mans features, and it intrigued him. Suddenly he felt as if he had just met the most interesting person.

"What about you, Charles, are you lonely?" Max asked in return.

"Well, I got on a train a few days ago and left behind everyone and everything I've ever known in favor of trying out a job I know nothing about. I might be a bit alone right now, but I haven't been lonely since I met you, I'd say," Charles said. He felt his cheeks go red at sounding so sappy.

"That's the most flattering thing I've been told in years," Max whispered, breaking out into a grin.

The two men got out of bed when the sun first began to spill into the room from the tiny window. As it was their last full day before leaving, they wandered around New Bedford together to pick up any last minute items. Max paid the landlord for their stay plus the upcoming night, generously covering the cost for Charles who's purse was much lighter.

That night, Charles was still awake when Max protectively threw an arm over him and pulled him close, and his heart filled with appreciation for the man he had only known for a few days yet felt so drawn to.

* * *

They wasted little time in the morning, as much as Charles would have been happy to have another heart to heart while wrapped up in the sheets with Max. 

Each man meticulously packed their suitcase, looking over the small room twice to make sure they didn't leave anything behind. Charles felt nervousness and excitement at the same time as they exited the little inn, thanking the landlord on the way out.

With their little luggage in hand, they made their way through the streets and down to the dock, just as they did two days ago. The dock was busy with sailors, hunters, passengers, and cargo being loaded and unloaded. Some of the ships were getting ready to leave, and others had just arrived. 

Charles followed Max closely as they walked down to the very end, approaching the ship they were both to work on. 

"Ready to start your life as a seaman?" Max asked when they were standing on the edge of the dock. 

Charles took a deep breath and glanced at the harpooner. He nodded, and they stepped onto the main deck of the ship. Other members of the crew sat and stood here and there, some talking among themselves. Like Max and Charles, they didn't carry much luggage with them, some even just holding onto a few personal items by hand. 

He and Max mingled about, waiting for some higher authority to appear. 

Said authority came in the form of a blond man emerging on the upper deck, blocking out the sun. The crew quieted down and waited for him to speak. For a minute, the man gazed down at all of them, scrutinizing and taking in their physical details.

The man broke the silence after silently evaluating the men below him.

"Welcome aboard the _Prancing Horse,_ men. My name is Vettel, your first mate. You will be answering to me from now on"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew so here's the first chapter of the fic where I finally get to put my useless whaling knowledge to use! gonna try to update this as frequently as I can, while also trying to do so for two other fics lol. I hope someone out there enjoys this :]
> 
> the title itself is the ending line from moby dick lol.


	2. The Runaways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since this is fanfic, obviously its not going to be 100% historically accurate. in this I have most of the crew sleep in the same area for storytelling purposes, but in true history, there were different sleeping quarters based on a sailors rank! the regular crewman (Charles) slept in their own little space, the harpooners (Max) had bunks in a different area, and the mates (Seb) had their own individual rooms as did the captain, which was the nicest and most spacious room.
> 
> so while im not going to add that specific division in this story, I still want to portray the overall kind of social structure that existed on whaling ships.
> 
> there’s quite a bit of character introduction and backstory in this chapter!!

"Welcome aboard the _Prancing Horse,_ men. My name is Vettel, your first mate. You will be answering to me from now on," his clear voice rang out. Charles craned his neck to look at his face. The man looked to be in his early thirties and stood with the confidence of someone who had years of wisdom under their belt.

"Some of you I recognize and have had the misfortune of working with before," Vettel continued, nodding to a few faces in the crowd, "and others of you I have the pleasure of meeting for the first time."

Charles felt a spotlight narrow in on him and Max as he seemed to look straight at them.

"The hell does a first mate do?" he whispered in a panic to Max, not sure if he was meant to be scared of this guy or not.

"He's like the captain's second in command. He's in charge of all of us and what he says goes, obviously unless the captain says otherwise," Max whispered back. Charles nodded, suddenly getting the realization that he maybe should have done some learning before blindly becoming a sailor.

Two other men stepped up to stand on the top deck alongside Vettel, one a grinning man with curly hair and sleeves of twisting tattoos, and the other a gruff, demure looking blonde.

"There are some preparations we need to make before we set out, which the captain is hoping to do tomorrow if we get everything done in time. Your second and third mates and I have found that we need to mend the current set of sails, load new sails onto the ship, and make sure we have enough materials for repairs. The blacksmith and cook will need help sorting and loading all their materials too," Vettel explained, "this will give you all a chance to familiarize yourself with the ship and the people you will be living with for the foreseeable future."

With that, the crew sprang into action like a well oiled machine. At first, Charles wasn't sure what to do, and he stood frozen for a couple seconds among the men who moved like they knew what to do by nature.

Barrels and crates were taken from the pier onto the ship and down to wherever their contents were needed. Charles eventually elected to help take down and mend the sails, figuring he would be more useful there than with the heavy lifting jobs. He pricked his finger on the sewing needle a few times, though it was more of a nuisance than an actual injury.

Max had left him to help with taking inventory and sorting through materials, which initially left Charles feeling lost and on his own.

Fortunately he fell right into the groove of things with the other crewman he was helping. Throughout the day he met other members of the crew. Daniel, the second mate, was the jolly man with the armful of tattoos. The Australian's cheery exterior made him an easy person to talk to, and he seemed to be singing or whistling a tune at any given moment. Jokes and clever quips filled his conversations, drawing a laugh from those around him. It was almost hard for Charles to imagine the guy chasing whales around to deliver a death sentence to them.

The third mate, Kevin, was far quieter but not unfriendly, though he certainly had some sass in him as Charles discovered. The Dane didn’t say much, didn’t ask much, and only stated his dislike of whales as his reason for becoming a whaler.

After the sails were mended, they were strung back up, and Charles helped bring a second set on board for when they would inevitably need to change them.

The crew of the _Prancing Horse_ went from a gang of strangers to a functioning community in just a few hours. Charles didn’t know everyone’s name, but he felt more confident than when he and Max had first stepped on board.

Charles went to find the Dutchman once the business with the sails was finished. He found him down on a lower level, helping the cook sort through cans and bags of ingredients.

He knelt down beside Max to help, and his friend smiled over at him briefly.

“I didn’t know boats could be so big. I can only hope I won’t get lost at some point,” Charles laughed as he began to inspect cans of vegetables, placing them in their respective piles on the floor.

“Most of the space is just for storage. Some of the rooms have empty barrels stacked up that we’ll use to put whale products in once we get going,” Max said, “trust me, soon enough you’ll know your way around here and it will feel cramped.”

Charles frowned after he said that. It never occurred to him that he might get tired of being stuck on a boat with the same crowd of people. He told himself not to think about it too much.

Out of the corner of his eye, Charles spotted movement in the back of the cook’s quarters.

He looked up to see a young boy peeking over at him, clutching a tambourine in his hands and looking away when Charles met his gaze. Charles smiled gently at the boy before turning his attention back to the cans.

There was a scuffle as the boy bolted out of the room, and Charles wondered if he was somebody's son.

When they were finished sorting the foodstuff, he and Max bid goodbye to the cook and returned to the top deck. There was still work to be done, and it ended up taking them until the sun began to set.

Charles groaned in relief when Vettel -who’s first name was Sebastian, as he had learned courtesy of Daniel- announced that the last cargo had been loaded and accounted for.

His back felt stiffer than a fundraiser at the country club and his arms were sore from lifting boxes. It was still preferable to the coursework he had to do at college, though.

Max grinned at the sight of him trying to relieve the aches in his biceps. “Was this your first time doing manual labor?” he teased, to which Charles nodded.

“You’ll get better at it,” he said, eyes wandering over Charles' shoulders.

“Did all that really not make you sore at all?” Charles asked in amazement.

“Not unbearably, but my back will definitely not be thanking me later,” Max sighed.

Charles nearly forgot about his pain as Max commented about the bedding they would be sleeping on and how hard it could be on the body. It hadn't occurred to him that they would now be sleeping apart; no more waking up in his friend's arms, which Charles enjoyed far more than he wanted to admit. If he had to sleep on half soaked wood, then he at least wanted to fall asleep in the warm embrace he had grown to delight in.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts when he noticed Max staring at him in confusion.

"Sorry, did you ask me something?" Charles questioned sheepishly.

"I wanted to know if you'd like to eat dinner somewhere with me. Starting tomorrow all we'll have is ships rations, so I think we should have a last nice meal together," Max proposed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Charles broke out into what he knew was a stupidly happy grin, responding with a resounding, "yes, I would like that. I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment there."

An evening with his friend sounded lovely to him. There was definitely an internal conversation Charles needed to have with himself about his growing feelings for the man, but for now he was happy just to get to spend time with the harpooner.

As the sun sank in the violet sky, the two men wandered through the town. Max found a restaurant overlooking the coastline with a few tables spread around the room. Newspaper clippings and drawings were hung on the walls, and it gave off a similar feeling as the inn they had met in.

It was quiet inside compared to the streets of the city. They were seated at a table and looked over the menu, which didn’t have much other than meats, pastries, and a concerning number of oyster dishes.

Charles was indecisive and told the waitstaff to bring him whatever Max ordered. He didn’t have any complaints when a pastry was placed in front of him.

“You know, you didn’t tell me a whole lot about why you came here. I mean, sure you said that you got bored of college, but there’s got to be more than that. Unless you really hated school so much that you thought this was a better idea?” Max curiously asked over their meal.

Charles swallowed uncomfortably and looked away from Max’s gaze. It was an innocent enough question, however it forced him to confront feelings that he had locked away and wasn’t ready to think about.

Max raised an eyebrow questioningly. “If you can’t talk about it right now, I understand,” he remarked gently.

Shaking his head adamantly, Charles admitted, “no, you’re right, there is a bit more to it than just school.”

“Well if you want to tell me, I won’t judge you,” Max coaxed him.

“It’s not really anything that serious. I just wasn’t happy with my life. I was so sick of college, and there was so much pressure from my family to go into some high paying job and get married quickly and _act_ a certain way and _dress_ a certain way, and Max, I just _hated_ it,” Charles said, his voice bleak and upset the longer he went on.

Recalling it made him feel the same frustration and trapped hopelessness that had driven him to leave the world he grew up in behind in the first place.

“I couldn’t go on living that way. And so I left. I took a few things from my college dorm and got on a train to the nearest harbor, which was here,” Charles breathed out.

He found that speaking the whole truth was liberating, making him wonder why he had been reluctant to tell Max in the first place.

“Did you tell your family where you were going?” Max asked. He placed a hand over Charles’ to try and comfort him.

“No. I didn’t even tell them I was leaving. I don’t know what they’ll do when they figure out I’m gone, but they can’t do much since I’m an adult,” Charles laughed bitterly. 

Max gazed at him with knowing eyes. Charles lost himself in that look, clinging to the hand on his like it was the only thing grounding him. He felt a closeness to the Dutchman that simultaneously brought him solace and troubled him greatly. It felt like he had known him his entire life.

“We’re more similar than I thought,” Max observed. He raised his cup and beamed proudly.

“To us runaways, planning to wander the sea until we find something we haven’t figured out yet,” he continued, grinning at Charles.

Charles returned his smile and raised his cup too, clinking them together before taking a large swallow.

The way Max described it, looking for something he hasn’t quite identified, summarized it in a way Charles wasn’t able to.

The phrase stuck with him after they paid the bill and wandered down the street on their way back to the ship. He might not know what he was looking for, but having someone by his side who was on the same road as him made it a little less daunting.

* * *

Max ushered him to the forecastle, where the majority of them were designated to sleep. It was explained to him that the captain, the mates, the cooks, the blacksmith and the carpenter had their own individual quarters, and the rest of them were crammed into the small room.

To make the most of limited space, there were stacked beds lining the walls to allow for open space in the middle. The space underneath the bottom bunk of each bed pair was used as storage, evident by the trunks and boxes pushed underneath most of them. His own suitcase sat at the wide doorframe, having been set there at the beginning of their busy preparations. A lamp hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow about the place.

"Come on, you can sleep in the bed above mine," Max said eagerly, thrusting the suitcase into Charles' hands and leading him over to one of the sets of bunkbeds. Charles knelt on the floor and pushed his suitcase underneath Max's bed, in the remaining space beside the harpooner's luggage.

Although it was still relatively early in the evening, some of the crew were lying in bed. Most were either doing some personal activity like reading or talking to one another.   
  
Max took the liberty of introducing Charles to the other harpooners, who were seated on the floor, engaged in conversation. They joined them kneeling on the wooden floorboards.

Both of them were a bit older than Max. One of them was a freckled man from Mexico who answered to the nickname Checo, and he managed to bring up his wife and kids an impressive amount of times in conversations where they weren’t entirely relevant. Similar to Daniel, Charles almost had a hard time picturing him hunting whales with his amiable demeanor.

The man next to him, however, seemed exactly like the type of person who would have no problem spearing a beastly fish. Valtteri, a Finnish man with a serious exterior, reminded Charles of the third mate, Kevin, but with less of a fiery attitude. He gave off the impression of someone who was calm and collected even when face to face with an aggravated whale.

Charles stayed quiet for the most part, since he was the odd one out in their little group. The three harpooners tossed around vocabulary and stories that he didn't understand, but he didn't mind. He found it interesting to hear what whaling was like and was astounded by how they seemed to not even blink an eye at each other's near-death experiences.

An uncomfortable soreness still lingered in his neck and down his back, and Charles rolled his shoulders with a grimace to try to ease his discomfort. 

Max must have noticed, for he scooted closer and asked, "do you want me to rub your shoulders so you can stop groaning every couple minutes?"

"I would really appreciate it...sorry," Charles stammered, not realizing that his discomfort had been that obvious.

His friend shifted to sit behind him, and the conversation carried on as normal as Charles felt Max's hands on his back. 

"Charles, I've heard this is your first time working on a ship. How do you like it so far?" Checo asked politely. He sat with his legs crossed and a friendly smile on his face.

"Well, everybody I've met has been nice. I like helping out and feeling useful, even if the work is tiring. I'm still a bit nervous that my lack of experience will catch up with me one day though," Charles said. He had to bite his lip and grip the leg of his pants to avoid audibly gasping when Max pressed on a particularly sore spot on his back. For someone who had such a rough and violent job, he sure was damn good at giving a tender massage.

"Don't worry so much. As long as you follow orders, you'll do just fine. You'll get used to everything pretty quickly," Checo reassured him.

Charles chuckled and said, "I've been hearing that a lot lately." The feeling of Max's talented hands working over his shoulders and down his spine was distracting, and not just because of the relief it provided on his pained muscles. The physical affection and the feeling of being cared for was heavenly to his poor, confused soul.

"Let me be the first to tell you that there is one thing you _never_ really get used to, and that's what we in the business like to call a Nantucket Sleigh Ride," Valtteri chimed in. 

"...Oh?" Charles questioned. Checo laughed knowingly, as did Max from where he sat behind him, hands no longer wandering Charles' back. 

"Chasing and spearing a whale is only the beginning of the pursuit. If we're able to stick a harpoon in a whale, the line is tied to the boat and we're dragged around the sea for hours until the damn thing finally dies or gets tired enough to let us finish it off. Those couple of hours are some of the most thrilling and terrifying moments of your life," the Finn explained, glancing at his fellow harpooners.

Picturing being dragged along the seas made Charles shiver. Another thought popped into his head, which he immediately had to ask about.

"Do they ever try to dive deep into the sea while tied to the boat?" He asked, a bit scared of what the answer might be.

"Sometimes, though not often. It mostly depends on what type of whale we're chasing. Humpbacks and sperm whales rarely do, they normally just pull at a fast pace. Fin and sei whales are the biggest offenders of diving, and sometimes they do end up pulling us underwater, flipping the boat over, or even breaking away," Valtteri continued calmly. 

Charles leaned back against Max for a moment, amazed at how the harpooners didn't seem to be afraid of the dangers they faced. He wondered if they genuinely were numbed to the frightening possibilities, or if they were just great at hiding it.

"I hope he hasn't scared you into regretting this job, Charles," Checo said with a pointed look at Valtteri.

The Finn simply retorted, "he asked, I answered."

"No, I don't regret it. I would rather know what I'm getting myself into than not," Charles shrugged. 

He stayed with the three harpooners a while longer until it was completely dark out, and the rest of the crew was turning in for the night. Charles felt a little awkward taking his clothes off and changing in front of people who were still strangers for the most part. He told himself that it wasn't a big deal; they would all be living with one another for a while, changing clothes with each other would just be a regular part of the routine.

"Hey," Charles said quietly, putting a hand on Max's shoulder as the Dutchman was about to go to bed, "thank you for uh, what you did just then." He felt his cheeks flush slightly.

"No problem. I know how hard the first day of work can be on the body. Sleep well, you won't have me clinging to you tonight," Max joked warmly as he pulled the sheets on his small bed back.

Charles wished him a goodnight as well and climbed up to his bunk above Max's, silently wishing they could still hold each other. The material of the sheets were rather scratchy and definitely not the most comfortable, but Charles was grateful to get some rest nonetheless. As he sank back into the pillow, he shut his eyes and breathed deeply and slowly.

The boat was still, the waters barely moving outside. There was little noise save for the few footsteps on the docks and the steady breathing of the other crew members. Yet Charles could not fall asleep. He tossed and turned and pressed his face into his pillow in annoyance. Hours went by, and no matter how exhausted he felt, he couldn't sleep.

At one point Charles peeked over the edge of his bunk, looking down at Max sleeping below him. The soft glow of light from the lantern in the room cast shadows over his sleeping figure, and Charles wished he could be laying beside him again. 

With a sigh, he flopped back onto his pillow and let his eyes fall shut again. His mind still flooded with thoughts, of the day he had just gone through, of the one he was to experience tomorrow, of the little boy he and Max had seen in the cook's quarters, of his family back miles away.

Maybe they still didn't know he had left. He had bothered to reply to their last letter the day before he left for New Bedford, so it was a possibility that they didn't even know he was gone. Or maybe they knew he had run away, and were searching for him.

Charles pushed the thoughts out of his head and rolled onto his side again. Finally, he let himself relax and drifted off to sleep, awaiting the for when they set sail tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the first chapter was longer than this, but I'm thinking I'd like most of the chapters to be closer to the length of this one. I know this wasn't the most exciting series of events but things will kick off more in the next one :)


	3. Gone Fishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's up fellas guess who is procrastinating on their other fics and schoolwork? it's me! I just wanted to say a huge thank you for the support on this fic so far. I didn't expect anyone to bother to read it since this is a rather niche topic but reading the comments people leave legitimately makes me smile and feel all happy.
> 
> gonna be honest fellas I didn't proofread all of this bc I was too lazy to so I'm sorry if there's any awkward sounding parts or typos!!
> 
> also did they technically go on a date last chapter? idk. anyways hope you enjoy :)

* * *

The sound of a bell ringing outside woke Charles up. He had only slept for a few hours, and still felt tired as he forced himself out of bed. At least the ache in his back was gone, thanks to Max.

The aforementioned harpooner was shrugging his coat on as Charles buttoned his shirt. The rest of the crew was doing much the same, and in under a minute they were all shuffling out of the forecastle and out onto the deck. Daniel and Kevin were standing and talking with each other, with Sebastian not anywhere to be seen yet. The little boy Charles had seen yesterday was sitting on the top deck, playing his tambourine and watching birds fly overhead.

When the cook gave him something to eat, Charles was grateful all over again for having one last nice meal with Max the night before. The stiff biscuit and some rice was enough to fill him up though, even if they were a bit bland and questionable looking.

"Is it a bit weird that we haven't seen our captain yet? Or is it normal for him to hide himself away?" Charles questioned to Max as they ate. 

"No, it's definitely strange that he hasn't even come to address the crew yet. Sebastian is probably with him right now, the first mate usually dines and talks privately with the captain each day. Hopefully the captain will at least appear before we leave the harbor ," Max sighed. He folded his arms and seemed to be staring at something.

Charles followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at the little boy, who had come down from the top deck and was hiding behind Daniel and Kevin and peering around the crew.

"I wonder who that kid is," the Dutchman continued curiously. 

Charles nudged him with his elbow and quietly said, "maybe he's like you." What exactly he meant by that didn't have to be explicitly said, and he could see a sympathetic look come across Max's face at the implication of another runaway seeking refuge on a whaleboat. 

"Let's find out," Max said. Crouching down to be on eye level, he waved until the boy met his gaze, and then beckoned for him to come over. 

With his tambourine shielding part of his face, the boy walked over until he was standing in front of Max. Charles could see how tense and unsure he seemed, ready to scramble away from them at any moment.

"Hey, my name is Max. This is my friend Charles. What's your name?" he asked in a friendly tone. Charles did his best to smile and seem unthreatening when Max introduced him.

The boy didn't answer at first, fiddling with the edge of his instrument. Only when he decided that the men in front of him weren't dangerous did he answer.

"I'm Lando," he said shyly. He lowered the tambourine, still clinging to it but not hiding his face anymore.

"What are you doing on this boat, Lando? Is your dad going to work here?" Max coaxed him gently.

Lando shook his head. “I don’t have a dad. Seb said you kill the whales,” he said, looking at Max with wide eyes. 

Charles noted that the boy didn’t seem to make a fuss over being an orphan.

“Yeah, I’m a harpooner. Do you live with Seb?” Max asked.

Lando nodded and hid behind his instrument once again before bolting away, running over to hide between Daniel and Kevin. Max stood up once again and turned to Charles.

"That was interesting, I guess. Maybe the kid is his adopted son or something," Charles suggested. Max nodded, and any further conversation was cut off by a sharp whistle. Everyone on the deck looked up to the top deck to see Seb standing and waiting until he had the group's full attention. It only took a few seconds for the murmurs to die down.

"I hope you all had a decent night. Since we got everything done yesterday, we'll be setting sail shortly," he said with an air of determination.

After addressing the men, Sebastian made his way to join them on deck, immediately going to talk with the second and third mates. Charles watched on as Lando flocked to him, clutching at his pant leg. He decided to ask someone else about it later, figuring Daniel or Kevin might know more about it.

For now, Charles remained close to Max, listening to the Dutchman talk. He felt drained from getting a restless few hours of sleep, and nodded along instead of giving verbal responses most of the time.

"Vettel!" a calm voice sounded. Turning around, Charles saw a short, dignified looking man leaning over the railing on the top deck. 

Seb immediately went up to him, a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. "Kimi, it's good to see you up and moving around," he said warmly. The two exchanged a short, private conversation before turning to talk to the ship as a whole.

"I would like to apologize for my absence up until now. I was...unwell and wanted to wait until I was feeling better," the man began. Max and Charles exchanged a look, and Charles wondered if the harpooner had as hard of a time believing the story as he did.

"I am your captain, Kimi Raikkonen. On behalf of myself, the ship's mates, and the owners, thank you for coming along on this voyage," he continued quietly, "before we leave the dock, I need to go over the rules. Firstly, no calling in whales after sundown, or in any other conditions that limit visibility. Second, no chasing a fish that fights too much. Lastly, don't make dangerous decisions. There will be no man on this boat not afraid of a whale; it's far more dangerous to have a fearless man beside you than a coward." 

Kimi then stepped back to let Seb take over, folding his arms and watching the German intently.

"Now let's quit standing around and get this boat untied. The winds aren't strong enough to get us out of the harbor so Kevin, get the sweep oars, Daniel check the sails. From now on we are in full operation, get a move on folks!" Seb called out with a clap of the hands. 

The crew sprang into action, and Charles didn't know what to do until a large wooden oar was pushed into his hands by Kevin.

"You're gonna help me get the oars attached instead of being useless," the Dane uttered bluntly.

Charles felt his face flush with embarrassment as he helped Kevin lift the oar and push it through a small hole in the length of the ship. There was no break for them after the last oar was pushed in place; the ropes tying the ship to the dock were thrown off, and each oar was taken up by a man. 

With a deep inhale, Charles threw his full weight against the wood, pulling in time with the other crew members. His chest heaved as he pushed and pulled, arms straining against the oars. Kevin appeared at his side, wordlessly easing the job as they rowed together. After what felt way longer than it realistically was, the rowing came to a halt, and the sweep oars were retracted through the holes in the ship and put back below the deck.

"No offense, but you look like hell," Kevin remarked to him as they carried the last oar down.

Charles offered a weary smile and replied, "I couldn't sleep well. I think I only slept for a few hours."

"Do you want to take the night watch with me tonight? We take alternate shifts sleeping and keeping watch. The fresh air might help you sleep," Kevin offered. He kept a neutral look on his face and tried to sound like he wasn't asking out of concern, but Charles knew that he cared enough to ask and appreciated it a lot.

"Yes, I'd be happy to," Charles accepted gratefully. When he walked back out into the sunlight, he watched the shoreline get smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing as they went along.

* * *

Their first official day at sea was fairly uneventful. There wasn't much for them to do yet since they had done the majority of preparation tasks the day before, and they weren't far enough out at sea to spot whales yet.

Charles was perfectly content to stand on the deck and lean over the railings, letting the breeze blow through his hair and cool his skin. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the waves and water smacking against the ship, inhaling the salty air. The undulating waters rocked the ship gently, and for the first time in a while, he felt completely disconnected from the world. 

The sea seemed to pull all his troubles from him. It beckoned his tired, broken heart, crashing waves embracing him in a way he had been deprived of. Charles closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. All of his grievances poured from his heart into the miles and miles of saltwater that carried him away, and he didn't even notice the tears dripping down his cheeks until a hand rested on his back and someone spoke softly to him.

"What's making you cry?" the voice of Max, which had become comfortably familiar to him in the past few days, sounded in his ear.

Charles opened his eyes again and leaned into his touch, wiping the dampness from his face on his sleeve. 

"I can't quite pinpoint it, but I know I feel much better now that I got it out," he answered, standing up straight and stepping closer to his friend.

"Should I leave you alone or do you mind if I gossip some more with you?" Max asked. His hand remained on Charles' back until he heard footsteps go by, and Charles shivered at the warmth disappearing.

"No please, stay and talk with me. I said I would join Magnussen for the night watch so I won't get to talk to you much later," he said, pulled out of the trance the sea had lulled him into.

"What did you think about that captain?” Max went on. They both leaned over the railing, peering across the seemingly endless stretch of the ocean.

"To be honest, he seems like he just wants to be left alone, and I'm not sure if he's just introverted or hiding something. I'd ask Vettel about him but I don't think it's my place to," Charles replied. He liked to think he was fairly good at reading people, though he didn't want to jump the gun on accusing Raikkonen of being some secretive criminal.

"He might be more willing to talk about the captain if I ask him," Max suggested.

"Why is that?" Charles wondered, glancing at the Dutchman out of the corner of his eye.

Max gave smirked at him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh boy, if there's something you need to learn about ship life, it's that there is _definitely_ some semblance of a hierarchy. I'm not saying this to insult you and I don't necessarily see things this way, but crewmen like you are sort of at the bottom of the pyramid. I'm a harpooner, meaning the higher-ups like Seb are probably going to respect me and listen to me more than they would do to a crewman," he informed him.

Charles frowned, not sure how he felt about that. It hadn't occurred to him that there would be such complex social dynamics on a boat, and it made him think back to things he had to read and discuss in college about the intricacies of power and hierarchies. Whether he liked it or not, he would have to get used to the way things worked aboard a ship.

"Does that mean you have power over me?" Charles asked, partially joking and partially wondering if he would have to be submissive to Max at some point.

Max shook his head, "no, not really. I'll try to talk to Seb at some point, and I'll be sure to tell you if I find out anything."

They continued talking with one another, and Charles lost track of time as he listened to Max's charming laugh and appreciated the way his smile reached all the way to his eyes when he was making a joke or telling a riveting story. He knew that he was doomed to develop more complicated feelings for the harpooner the longer he stared into his eyes, yet he never made any attempts to look away or shove Max's arm off when it settled around his waist.

* * *

Towards the evening, much of the crew sat crowded together and listened to Daniel tell outrageous tales. Charles didn’t know how much of the Australian’s talk he believed, but they were entertaining nonetheless. 

Kevin came to get him when the sun began to sink below the horizon. Charles followed the Dane up to the highest point of the top deck, where they sat down side by side.

“It’s still pretty early in the night, so we’ll switch off between sleeping and watching in a few hours,” Kevin explained. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wooden mast. 

“What are we actually watching for?” Charles questioned. He gazed out over the ship, his eyes drawn to his favorite Dutchman, who was speaking to Valtteri away from the circle of people listening to Daniel.

"Changing weather, obstacles the ship might hit, other ships, any issues on deck, basically anything that might cause trouble. Most of the time nothing happens, but it's better to be safe than sorry. If you see anything unusual and I'm asleep, don't hesitate to wake me up," Kevin answered.

Charles nodded and also leaned against the mast, folding his hands and inspecting the waters below. He decided not to say anything else, seeing as Kevin didn't seem like he wanted to talk to him.

A soft breeze fluttered through his hair and over his skin. The sounds of the rest of the crew talking below was reduced to an incoherent murmur, accompanied by the crashing of waves and occasional call of a seabird. At one point in his life, Charles may have found sitting quietly on the sea like this to be boring, however he found it to be calming and perfectly enjoyable.

Sometimes he felt much older than he really was, and the same feeling settled over Charles as he breathed in slowly, inspecting the world around him. 

When the sun's last dying rays bled out of the dark sky, Kevin nudged Charles and told him to go to sleep. The younger let out a sigh and closed his eyes, letting the subtle sway of the boat rock him to sleep. Even though they alternated between sleeping and keeping watch, Charles felt much more rested and reinvigorated the next day than he did after sleeping on his own in the stiff wooden bunkbed. 

But the next night found him unable to sleep again. No matter how he twisted and turned and pulled the quilts over himself, Charles couldn't sleep. He considered asking to sleep with Max. Biting his lip, he tried to tell himself that the harpooner would refuse and think he was weird. Then again, sleeping in his arms was so _peaceful_ and made him feel safe enough to actually get a decent rest.

"Who am I kidding, I'm never going to be able to sleep any other way," Charles muttered to himself as he climbed down from his bunk. Doing his best to stay quiet, he knelt down next to Max's bed and peered at him for a moment. He was definitely sound asleep, and Charles almost felt bad about shaking his shoulder until he woke up.

"...huh, Charles what?" Max whispered with a yawn, propping himself up on his elbow and screwing up his eyes when he looked in the direction of the lantern.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, would you mind if I slept with you?" Charles asked, his voice quiet so as not to wake anyone else up.

Max blinked and stared at him like he wasn't awake enough to understand the question. Charles was about to tell him to forget it when Max scooted over and pulled the blanket down, gesturing for Charles to lie down next to him.

"Thank you," Charles murmured as he settled down next to Max. The Dutchman didn't respond, instead simply throwing an arm over Charles and snuggling close to him. With a smile, Charles let his eyes fall shut, happy to be in Max's embrace again. It was established that Charles would inevitably come crawling into his friend's bed every night, and neither one of them had any qualms about it.

* * *

Nearly seven weeks passed before they finally heard the one-liner that was the backbone of the entire whaling industry. Charles had been busying himself with wringing out damp laundry, one of the more domestic tasks that had to be done in board which he had been put in charge of.

" _There she blows!"_ Kevin shouted from where he sat on the top deck. Charles swiveled around just in time to see the dark shape of a tail disappearing into the waters, a few fathoms away from them. He dropped the fabric he was holding back into the basket of clean clothes as all the men on board neglected what they were doing and sprung into action.

Seb was ordering people around in an instant, grouping them together and telling some to go fetch one thing or another

Charles barely knew what was happening as Seb grabbed his shoulder and thrust him in the direction of Daniel, who was untangling nets with three other men. 

He didn’t know what his role in this was supposed to be and looked around frantically. 

Max came rushing onto the deck, harpoon in hand, and was pushed by Seb to the same group of people as him, to Charles’ momentary relief.   
  
Just as he was about to ask what he was supposed to be doing, Daniel grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the edge of the ship. Charles followed the men in front of him over the railing and into one of the four small, streamline whaling boats that was tied to the edge of the ship. An oar was placed into his hands. Max and Daniel climbed into the boat, sitting at the front together and pointing to where the whale had gone.

Charles swallowed nervously as the remaining men on board lowered the four whaling boats into the water. Each of them was headed by one of the three mates, with the fourth led by Kimi himself. Charles could see multiple harpoons lying in the bottom of the boat, and Max clutched one in his hand too.

"Let's go, it's time to kill a fish!" he heard Sebastian yell from a few meters away. 

"You heard him boys, get rowing," Daniel ordered over his shoulder.

With the three men sitting back with him, Charles quickly stuck the oar in the choppy waters and fell into a demanding rhythm, on their way to track down and tango with the most daunting force of the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> charles after sleeping in the same bed w max once: hope this doesn't awaken anything in me :)
> 
> I feel like Kimi makes a good captain ahab thank you <3 hmmnnbgh I really want to either make a drawing based off this fic or a moodboard/aesthetic post but I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> as always you can find me on Tumblr @bingstory :^)
> 
> *ik whales aren't fish but calling them fish was a part of seamen's slang so uhh yeah*


	4. Salty or Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now for the infamous whaling scenes :) its a little obvious but I'll say it anyways: there's gonna be a relatively in depth description of whaling and what they do with different whale parts. that contains a bit of violence and obviously the death of an animal, so just a heads up lol. there's really nothing that bad in here in my opinion but I just don't want anyone to be surprised when they read about whaling lol :0 if blood makes you queasy, maybe don't read this part bc there's quite a bit of blood.
> 
> and Charles and max finally have a lil talk at the end ;)

Charles tried not to shiver when some of the cold water splashed over the edge of the boat for the first time, soaking into his clothes and making the fabric stick to his skin. There was a lot of shouting between the little whale boats as the mates and Kimi communicated with one another, trying to figure out strategic paths to approach the whale.

His arms strained against the oars as he paddled, covered in sweat and seawater. Despite the fact that whales were relatively slow, it took them nearly an hour before they were close enough to attempt to stick a harpoon in the wrinkled gray skin.

Charles gasped for breath as Daniel ordered them to cease rowing, with one of the other whaleboats being closer and having a clearer shot than they would. Digging his fingernails loosely into the soaked wood of the oar, he let his arms go slack against his side. He watched through squinted eyes while Kimi shouted at Kevin to try and go for the whale soon.

Salty water stung at his eyes and wiping them on his sleeve did no good, seeing as he was soaked in saltwater, just as everyone else was. They all ignored the coldness that seeped into their bones, focusing on the animal between their boats.

Yards away, the blue waters parted and out leapt the streamlined figure of the whale. His full, sublime contour elegantly fell backwards, crashing down into the waters and sending large ripples out in every direction, all of the boats rocking and those closest being hit with another face full of seawater.

Charles felt like he had been struck by lightning from the heavens above. It dawned on him for the first time just how big whales were, and just how small they as people were, particularly how small he was. The image of the hundreds of scars that decorated the grey skin was burned into his mind; the arch of the whale's body as he easily flew out of the depths of the sea would stay with him for as long as he lived.

All it would take was one powerful thrust of its tail for the whale to bat them away or break the wooden planks of the boats, and that would have been the end of their pursuit and possibly the end of them all together. Charles felt a shudder go down his spine. 

Why didn't the whales ever defend themselves? He wondered if they didn't know they were being hunted, or if the goodness of their hearts made them perverse to attacking another life.

Charles shook his head and figured the dehydration along with the coldness was getting to him too much. 

“You’ve got a clean shot, don’t let it go to waste,” he heard Kevin yell.

The rest of them watched and held their breath as Valtteri hurled a harpoon with all his might towards the back of the whale.

A string of incoherent curses fell from the Finn when the whale sank below the surface, evading the sharp blade and resurfacing unscathed a few meters away. 

The whale, which Charles clearly recognized now as a sperm whale, gracefully glided through the seas in their direction, and he figured they would take a stab at it next.

“Daniel, chase that fish, you’re closer than we are,” Sebastian ordered loudly from across the water.

“Got it. Come on you strong boys, pick up those oars again!” Daniel hollered back at him and the three other crewmen. 

Charles took a deep breath and the four of them picked up a steady rhythm, shifting directions on the fly to chase down the creature.

Daniel sat crouched at the head of the boat next to Max, who was checking that the line on the end of the harpoon was fastened tightly.

“Oi Maxy, if I were you I’d be keeping steady and waiting to spear that fish about now,” the Australian warned as they drew alongside the whale.

Max nodded, leaning against the thigh board and remaining poised for the perfect moment. He tossed the line of the harpoon back to Charles and the crewmen, who made quick work of tying the very end of it securely to a post on the boat. Charles remembered Checo and Valtteri warning him to stay clear of the line once it was being pulled by the whale, and he eyed it warily.

"Now, stick it to him now!" Daniel yelled at a sudden moment. 

Charles looked over to watch as Max drew his arm back and tossed the harpoon over his shoulder, throwing his weight forward and hooking the harpoon into the blubber of the whale with pinpoint accuracy. They pushed the boat back as the whale thrashed about in confusion, and Max and Daniel rushed to sit down and cling to the boat as the whale suddenly lurched forward, beginning the thrillingly wild ride that would last until it tired.

All of them in the whaleboat ducked out of the way of the line, which ran out as the whale swam ahead. It flew out with such great friction that it seemed to smoke. Once all of the rope had unraveled, the boat itself was dragged behind the whale at a nearly unbearable speed. It was all Charles could do to sit back and grip the side of the boat and the wooden plank he sat on. Even then there were times where he nearly lost his balance and slipped over the side as they went racing through white waters at the mercy of the injured, distressed whale.

If that didn't kill him, then Charles was sure that his heart would give out from his frantic breathing, given how it thrummed painfully in his chest. What Valtteri said about never getting used to the _Nantucket sleigh ride,_ as it had been so affectionately dubbed, now resonated with him. There was no way to adapt to being pulled at such a turbulent pace.

The three other whaleboats stayed nearby, though they were careful to stay out of the whales' warpath. Charles could have sworn he saw the line tied to the boat quivering from how taught it was pulled, and at one point the boat dipped dangerously close to the water as the whale plunged into the shadowy depths of the sea.

Waves splashed onto them, the worst coming when the whale surfaced and smacked it's broad tail against the surface of the water. Charles nearly choked on the water that forcefully entered his mouth and nose, additionally stinging at his eyes.

It seemed to be hours before the whale slowed, exhausted and perhaps accepting its fate. Once the thrashing and breakneck speeds had died down, Daniel and Max tugged on the line to draw the boat nearer to the whale. Max picked up a sharpened lance that sat down with the harpoons in the bottom of the boat and handed it to Daniel.

Max shuffled back to sit nearer to the rear of the whaleboat, and he seemed just as soaked to the bone as Charles felt.

"There you go, it'll be over for you soon," Daniel muttered as he prepared to stab the lance downwards. In a quick motion, he thrust the lance into the defeated whale, striking the heart that was larger than their entire whaleboat.

A low, pained groan rang out from the whale as it attempted to swim in a circle. The tides were stained red from the blood spilling out of the wound and with each shaky breath the dying creature took. Piercing cries, guttural and ear-shattering, struck a chord in Charles that had him nearly on the verge of tears as the great beast let out a final sigh, rolling onto it's side and relinquishing itself from earthly fields and jurisdictions.

The whale's tail smacked against the surface of the water as it exhaled for the last time. And with that, it was over.

Their work wasn't at an end though, and barely a second passed before there was more yelling between the whaleboats. Kimi waved a handkerchief to the crew who remained on the _Prancing Horse_ , signaling for them to steer in the direction of the group of whaleboats and the now dead animal.

Charles sighed as they started rowing again, going much slower as they dragged the weight of the whale with them. He knew his whole body was going to be sore later, especially his exhausted arms. 

The ship covered distance much faster than they did in the whaleboat, so at least they didn't have to row for long. All four of the whaleboats worked together to get the whale fastened to the right side of the ship with heavy chains and nets, and Charles nearly fell over once they were finally out of the small boats and on the study deck of the ship, feeling like he was dead on his feet.

He was absolutely drenched, all of them were, and Charles couldn't wait to peel his clothes off and put something else on. Despite the fact that it was barely noon, he felt ready to sleep for a whole day.

"Wasn't that fun?" Max exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I am exhausted," was all he could sigh in response.

There was no rest for him though, as Kimi stood firmly on deck and announced, "I want this whale processed by tonight, nobody should be standing around."

And they dove right into it. Sebastian and Kimi divided the crew into groups and directed them to get barrels and casks and pull different equipment out from down below deck.

The first thing they had to do was remove the blubber. A plank platform, or the cutting stage as Seb had called it, was set up over the carcass, and men on the platform cut long strips of the blubber from the whale, almost like it was an orange peel. The strips were then cut into thinner pieces resembling blankets, and each thinner strip was handed up to those on deck, where they would be cut into even smaller pieces by another group of crewmen.

Charles was one of those working on cutting the blanket strips on deck. They worked in pairs, and he was slicing blubber alongside Checo. Each strip was cut into pieces that were about the size of a sheet of paper, and Charles wasn't sure if he was more grossed out by the smell or the blood that seeped onto the deck with every strip of blubber that was hauled up. 

The entire deck was soon stained with the blood of the whale. It soaked into his pants, onto his hands and arms, and got on his shirt too as he worked with the cheery harpooner, more of the sticky redness spilling over his hands every time he sliced into the blubber.

Thankfully he only felt like he was going to be sick for the first few minutes. It smelled very unpleasant, but there was nothing he could do about that and had to just keep on working. He winced when he accidentally knicked his finger, dropping the knife and clutching his hand.

"Let me see, is it bad?" Checo asked, shuffling closer to Charles and immediately taking his hand into his own, inspecting it closely.

"I can't tell what's my blood and what's whale blood," Charles muttered, hoping he wouldn't get some sort of infection from this.

Checo did his best to wipe Charles' hand clean with the edge of his shirt. The Mexican continued to look over his hand until he let go of Charles and said, "it's not very deep, so I wouldn't try to get it bandaged until we're all done here."

Charles nodded and they resumed their work with the blubber. It was rather slippery, as was the deck, but they did their best and Charles found that the macabre feeling of being soaked in whale's blood eventually faded away. 

Once they finished cutting the paper-like slices, he and Checo loaded them up into a crate. Daniel strode past as they were preparing to take the crate below deck, and he shot Checo a grin and said, "hey, drop one of those off to the cook and tell him to make me a whale steak, alright?"

"I don't understand how you can eat that stuff, but I know you won't stop whining later if I pretend you didn't ask me to do that," Checo scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

"If he tells you to try it, say no, just trust me," he warned as he and Charles lifted the crate. Charles curiously glanced down at the blubber, and he couldn't imagine it tasted good even when cooked.

They walked the crate downstairs, making a stop by the cook's quarters to give him a slab of blubber as the Australian had requested, and Checo led him to a room with big iron pots sitting in a brick stove. A fire was lit in the stove, and they set the crate down and tossed its contents into the pots. Checo explained that they boiled the blubber to extract the oil, which was then cooled and would be sold on shore.

It took until sunset for the entirety of the whale to be taken apart, cut, sliced, boiled or put into barrels. Even the teeth of the whale were individually removed, not because they were going to be sold at high value at any markets but because they could be carved into figures and small sculptures. 

When Max approached him, Charles noted that he was significantly cleaner and his clothes weren't as badly stained as Charles was. The Dutchman smirked and looked him up and down before commenting, "I take it you got put on blubber duty?"

"What, did the blood soaking my clothes and skin give it away?" Charles groaned back sarcastically, "what were you doing that left you so clean?"

"I had to help scoop buckets of oil and spermaceti out of the head of the whale. Not as much blood involved there," Max explained.

Seb addressed the crowd, Kimi having long since disappeared, and announced that they would spend the next day washing the deck down. The thick scent still hung in the air, and they were all just going to have to put up with it until tomorrow.

As soon as humanly possible, Charles washed himself down with a sponge and a bucket of water, putting on fresh clothing afterwards and putting his gross clothes in the bucket. The next time he did laundry would definitely not be fun.

* * *

Just as Sebastian had promised, the entirety of the next day was spent scrubbing at the decks. It was a boring task, but after the excitement and terrifying ordeal of killing the whale yesterday, Charles gladly welcomed the easy monotony. 

Nearly the entire crew spent hours with buckets of seawater and rags, washing away the blood and oil that had doused the deck. When the rags got stained, they were cleaned in the buckets of water. When the water got too filthy, they were dumped over the edge of the ship and fresh water was hauled up. 

Charles was kneeling on the wooden planks and scrubbing with Daniel, Checo, and Valtteri. It was relatively quiet until Checo spoke up.

“I nearly lost my wedding ring yesterday. Normally I take it off before we go after a whale but I forgot to yesterday,” he mused, looking down on the band on his finger.

“Ooh Thank god, we would have never heard the end of it if that thing went missing,” Daniel joked, “I take it you miss your wife already?” 

“Of course I do, you would too if you were married,” Checo chided, fixing Daniel with a stern look.

“See the thing is there’s too many women who are in love with me for me to settle down and get married,” the second mate hummed.

“What about you Val, you got a girl or a wife at home?” he asked a moment later.

“Yes, but we’re not married. Maybe someday when I’m back,” Valtteri shrugged nonchalantly.

Charles hadn’t said anything, mostly since he didn’t have anything to add and because he was focused on polishing the deck as best as he could.

“What about you, Charles? Did you woo many girls with your college books and shit?” Daniel questioned, turning to him.

“No, I’m not married and I don’t have a girl waiting for me,” Charles answered shyly.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. You know, if you put on a dress and a wig or something, you could be Maxy’s perfect little bride,” the Australian laughed, and Charles dropped the rag he was holding and nearly audibly gasped.

“Uh, what?” He stuttered after a second, the other three trying not to laugh too hard at him. 

“You mean you and him aren’t, y’know?...” Daniel continued, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

“No, and I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charles cried. He knew his cheeks were tinged pink but he hoped it didn’t look any different than a sunburn.

“We all assumed that you were his lover. You’re always hanging around him and he puts his arm around you a lot, and sometimes I see you get in bed with him,” Valtteri added on.

Charles sat there with his mouth agape for what felt like an eternity, while the other three just casually kept cleaning.

“We-I mean uh- we’re just close friends,” Charles fretted. He tried to appear like he wasn’t freaking out internally as he scrubbed the wood.

“Whatever you say, man,” Daniel hummed.

They worked in silence for the rest of the day, but Charles knew they could see right through him. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know what his relationship with Max could be defined as. They had become very close very quickly, and then there was the fact that they literally slept together, and Charles always delighted in waking up in his arms.

Max did always pull Charles close to him or hold his hand whenever they were near each other. And come to think of it, he had recently been wondering what Max’s lips felt like; would kissing him taste salty from years spent on the sea, or sweet from the coffee he drank each morning? 

Then there was the fact that they acted so much like a couple that other people apparently assumed they were together.

He shuddered and figured it was time he had a talk with the Dutchman. The only problem was that, given that they were on a boat, it was hard to have a private conversation at all without anyone else being in earshot.

An idea came to him when he glanced up and saw Kevin sitting on the highest point of the top deck, keeping watch like he usually was. The third mate nearly always made up part of the night watch, only ever letting someone take his place every few weeks. Charles scrubbed at the deck with determination, feeling confident in his plan.

By early evening, the deck was cleaned and polished as best as they could get it, ready to restart the whole whaling process all over again. Being hunched over and kneeling the whole day had left his back and knees tense, not unbearably though. 

Charles made a beeline towards the top deck once Sebastian dismissed the crew, only after he had inspected the wood and deemed it clean enough. Kevin saw him approaching and crossed his arms, as if Charles talking to him was a bother.

"Kevin, do you think I could take over for you tonight?" he began.

The Dane raised an eyebrow and asked, "why?"

It wasn't the response Charles had been expecting and he wasn't sure how to answer at first.

"Um, I just assumed you'd like to have a break," was what he came up with. Kevin frowned at him, probably knowing there was more to it than that, but he agreed anyways. 

"Be sure you find someone to join you, and don't slack on checking the ship every once in a while," Kevin warned, narrowing his eyes in a look that had Charles afraid he'd be strangled if anything happened while he was on watch.

Charles nodded and turned away to go find Max. He found the Dutchman in the forecastle, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Charles sat down next to him, putting a hand on his knee.

"I am taking Kevin's place during the night watch, will you accompany me?" he asked.

Max sat up and answered with, "sure."

They replaced Kevin at the top of the top deck when the sky began to redden and the sun began to sink lower in the sky. Charles appreciated how Max linked their arms together, and Charles wordlessly leaned his head against Max's shoulder when the crew began disappearing into their quarters for the night.

"What did you think of your first whale hunt?" Max queried.

"It was...an experience. I was exhausted by it and there were moments I thought I was going to die, and then cutting the blubber was almost worse than chasing the whale. I don't think I've ever smelled something so awful in my life and all that blood had me choking on the air. But dear god it was exciting," Charles recalled, reliving the exhilarating experience of being dragged around the ocean for hours.

Max laughed a little at his wide eyed expression. "The first time is always the most memorable. I'm glad that I don't have to do the rowing, you must have felt like hell after that," he remarked.

"Yeah, that was the most exertion I've ever put out in my life. Those pained sounds the whale made were so haunting, it almost made me cry. I kept hoping it would die quickly so I wouldn't have to hear it any longer," Charles murmured, wiping at his eyes when the memory stirred his soul.

With a sigh, Max replied, "I swear you're too good for this ship. That's why we try to stab the lance into their hearts, it brings death the quickest."

Charles knew that taking a job on a whaleship would obviously involve hunting whales, but seeing it happen was still a bit saddening to him. He chose to move on though, deciding it was time to tackle the real reason why he had needed to get Max alone like this.

"Max, are we friends?" he asked quietly, sitting up straight to look him in the eye.

"Well yes, I would say so."

A beat passed as Charles worked up the confidence to continue with, "are we more than friends?" 

"Do you want to be?" was all Max whispered back.

"...yes."

When Max didn't say anything at first, Charles was worried that he was about to be turned down and judged. All of those thoughts escaped him when Max leaned forward and kissed him, and Charles briefly thought he had died and gone to heaven.

A soft breeze swirled around them. The waves crashed against the ship and the stars blinked down at them from the sky above.

It was perfectly imperfect; the angle a little awkward and Charles gripping his arm tightly. Kissing him didn't taste salty like the sea or sweet like coffee; instead it tasted fresh like morning dew settled on clover leaves, warm and so inviting that Charles never wanted to break away from him. Max's lips on his sparked something inside him that had been missing for a long time.

Max eventually pulled away from him and gazed into his eyes, cupping his cheek in the palm of his hand. 

"I'd like that too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> personally I love the idea of Charles being classy enough to do the laundry on a whaleship bc he can't stand the thought of dirty clothes/improperly cleaned clothes.
> 
> sorry that a lot of this chapter was me dumping my whaling knowledge and not really much plot lol. I've got the next chapter all planned out and whew it should be a lot more interesting than this one.


	5. Squeezing Sperm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I changed the rating on this because theres some makeshift sexy time in this chapter 😳😳
> 
> also for anybody who may not know, sperm/spermaceti is a substance found in the head of sperm whales, that's where they get their name from. its very waxy and was used in old products like candles and in medical treatments too, and it made sperm whales very valuable to whalers. in moby dick, there's a chapter where the characters all squeeze the collected sperm in their hands to smoothen it out after its cooled down, and its a bit debatable if this was an actual thing whalers did in the 1800's but for the sake of plot devices, I'm including it in this fic. love u Herman Melville 
> 
> and as always, I hope you enjoy :0

The night went by without any disruptions, which Charles was glad for seeing as he could barely focus on anything whenever it was his turn to watch. He was too caught up in his delirium from knowing that he and Max were officially together, and Kevin may have skinned him if something bad had happened because of his distractedness.

When Kevin relieved them of their post, they joined their fellow crewmen on the deck for a bland breakfast of hard tack biscuits and dried fruits.

Little Lando ran around the ship looking for Seb and Kimi, who hadn't appeared yet. Charles watched as the boy paced, stamping his foot and crossing his arms angrily when neither of the two were to be found.

"Hey Lando, are you hungry?" Max called from where they sat on a crate together. Lando nodded and got the same shy look on his face that came over him whenever a crew member tried to talk to him.

Max beckoned him over, and they were both a bit surprised when the boy jumped up on the crate and sat between them, normally not wanting to stay near people who weren't Sebastian or Kimi.

"You can have some of my fruit if you'd like," the Dutchman offered. He placed some of the fruits into Lando's cupped hands and watched as he ate one, making an amusing face afterwards.

"They don't taste like anything," Lando said with a frown. Charles bit his lip to stifle a laugh; the tasteless factor of most of the food onboard had become normal to everybody except the young boy, who still seemed disappointed by nearly every meal.

"It's better than eating something that tastes bad though," Max offered, to which Lando shrugged and agreed, eating the rest of the handful without complaint.

Charles fondly watched Max talk to the boy. They seemed to get along well, and he wondered if it was because Max knew what it was like to be growing up on whaleships without a family. The boy thanked Max with a hug and ran off once he was finished with the fruits.

Charles hadn't learned a ton about how Lando ended up on the ship. Whenever he thought of asking Sebastian, he remembered what Max had said about hierarchies on a ship, and he was afraid it would be rude of him to ask. Lando himself hadn't talked too much of his past either, not that he talked to most of them at all.

There was no use in troubling himself with things he didn't know this early in the morning though, and thus Charles swallowed the last of the dry bread and got up to busy himself with the laundry. Before he walked away, Max leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He blushed and squeezed Max's hand, hoping nobody had paid them much mind as he left to clean bloodied clothes.

* * *

The sun hung in the middle of the sky when Sebastian stood in the center of the deck and called out, “get that spermaceti out here boys, it’s time to squeeze!”

Charles had just finished rinsing the laundry and wringing it out. He placed the clean clothes in a basket and set it out in the sun to dry before striding over to stand beside Max, who watched with the other two harpooners as a few barrels were brought up from the hold of the ship.

“What exactly are we doing?” he asked, watching on as the lids were unscrewed. 

“I’ll show you what to do, come with me,” was all Max offered. Charles did as he said, following him to one of the open barrels.

Max rolled his sleeves up to his elbows before putting both hands in the barrel.

“You see how some of the sperm has congealed and gotten a bit lumpy? We have to squeeze it by hand to smoothen it out again before we can boil it,” the Dutchman explained to him. He demonstrated, taking a handful and working it against his palms to make it smooth and creamy.

“Ah, okay,” Charles expressed, pulling his sleeves up as Max had done. He hesitated as he looked down into the barrel.

The sperm was an off-white looking substance, and although Max had no problem sticking his hands in it, he personally felt his stomach drop as he stood there. 

“Come on Charles, don’t make me do all this on my own,” Max teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“Sorry Maxy,” he murmured. The men around them were doing as Max was, working the oil in their hands to get it back into its best state.

Charles cringed momentarily and sank his hands into the barrel. His disgust went away when he began to run the lumps through his hands, smoothing the soft liquid with his fingers. It did not feel gross like he had expected it to, and he was able to settle into an easy pace with his hands.

After the men had worked through the uppermost part of the barrels, they hauled up shallow, metal tins from below deck and poured the spermaceti into them so as to smoothen out the lumps at the bottom of the barrels. This was easier than attempting to submerge their entire arms in the wooden containers. 

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Charles worked with Max and a few others to even out the liquid. The sky was spectacularly pure blue, and the winds just strong enough to push the ship along at a relaxed pace, and a familial air came over them all.

It was almost calming to sit and work in peace with his fellow men, especially with the one he was in love with next to him.

Occasionally he would accidentally grab another man’s hand or someone would grab his, mistaking it for another lump in the spermaceti. They would laugh among themselves as an apology, and Daniel would always jokingly cry out that nobody wanted to hold his hand.

Charles generally laughed it off too, but he always felt his heart flutter when his hand was tangled up in Max’s. His Dutchman gently caressed his hand when it happened, and Charles felt like he was going to melt under his touch.

The sperm had a nice smell to it, unlike everything else that had come from the whale. 

It wasn’t bad at all, instead it smelled a lot like the wine which he used to drink at dinners where he pretended he wasn’t miserable.

Despite the memories it brought to Charles, it didn’t sour his mood. The breeze on his skin and the smiles of the men around him made him feel at ease.

Maybe this was what he had fled to the sea in search of; maybe he had been looking for a place where he belonged, and where those around him weren’t embodiments of stiff, archaic beliefs.

Max grabbed his hand once again, this time on purpose, just to see the way Charles’ cheeks flushed and his head turn away out of habit. 

His attempts to keep his reactions to Max’s touch faltered that one time, and Daniel immediately sat up straighter with a knowing look across his face. Charles quickly darted his eyes down, hoping that the second mate wouldn’t say anything if he pretended nothing had happened.

“I wish we all could be more open, like more truthful with each other,” Daniel remarked casually, and Charles felt a pang of anxiety in his chest. Hopefully Daniel would have the sense not to explicitly say anything about him and Max in front of everyone.

“Is that sweet aroma getting to your head? I’ve never heard you be so sentimental before,” Checo piped up.

Charles silently thanked him for unintentionally changing the route of the conversation, as Daniel frowned and proclaimed himself a perfectly sentimental person.

They carried on as such, joking with one another and making light conversation until the spermaceti was perfectly smooth once more. The waxy substance was scooped into buckets and poured back into the barrels, which were taken back down into the hull once again.

Surrounded by people he was beginning to see as friends, Charles felt content. Worry did wash over him when Daniel clapped him on the shoulder though, grinning at him and pulling him over to the side of the ship.

“Charles, is there something you want to tell me?” The Australian asked politely, crossing his arms.

Charles shuffled awkwardly and did his best to look like he wasn't internally freaking out.

“...no,” he huffed a second later. 

Daniel rolled his eyes and leaned against the railing.

“I know you and Max are together, so stop denying it,” Daniel insisted. His tone was steady yet firm, like he was trying to coax the truth from a toddler.

“We talked last night and he kissed me and ...yes we are together now,” Charles admitted with a nervous sigh, “but please don’t tell anyone. I mean I know Valtteri said people assumed we were together but I don’t want this to get out and cause trouble.” 

His shoulders were shaking and he was nearly crying as he babbled on, only quieting down once Daniel shushed him and pulled him into a comforting hug.

“Nobody here is going to judge you for liking guys. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were other people like you on board. The world is a really judgmental place, so I understand why you’re scared. Please know that a whaleship has its own culture, it’s own little society of sorts, and I think you’ll find that people are a lot more accepting on the sea than they are on land,” Daniel preached to him soothingly.

It was a touching speech, one that gave him peace of mind that maybe he wouldn’t have to live in secrecy while they were at sea.

* * *

As time went on, Charles found that Daniel was correct. The way the whaleship society functioned was different than anything else in the world, and nobody seemed to think twice when they saw Max wrap an arm over Charles’ shoulder or when Charles kissed Max’s cheeks.

They pushed on in their journey, traveling southward from where they originally started in New Bedford. Through the Atlantic they sailed between Central America and Africa, inching closer towards the equator.

It had been very cold in the first months of their voyage, with coats and scarves and various layers of dress needed to keep them from shivering through the days. But it got warmer as they went south, and coats and heavy clothes were ignored in favor of loose-fitting light clothing. 

Even with lighter layers on, Charles was still soaked in sweat on the worst days of the heat, as were the rest of his shipmates. It became quite regular for some of the men to lose their shirts as the sun brutally beat down on them. 

Charles preferred to keep all his clothes on, although he had to admit that he enjoyed watching a shirtless Max lift crates. He had no complaints if he caught a glimpse of his boyfriend while doing some mundane task like folding sails.

Mundane was the perfect word to describe the majority of the stretch of time. Most days were spent waiting to spot whales, and unless they were going through the rigorous multi-day whaling process, they were left with little to do except wait. 

Housekeeping tasks took up some of this excessive time, and Charles was more than happy to dutifully throw himself into these tasks, concerned that nobody else would clean things as well as he could. The ship was consequently kept in great condition, which pleased the watchman in Kevin.

When there were no chores left, the crew had to come up with their own ideas for passing the time. This was where the collected whale teeth often came into play, with Checo carving them into small figurines for anybody who wanted one, along with some for his family at home.

Charles would sometimes sit and watch him whittle them with a pocketknife. One day the harpooner offered to teach him, and Charles spent a few hours carving a tooth into the shape of a little dog, with Checo sitting next to him and giving him guidance. 

He had tossed a few books into his suitcase before he left college, so he breezed through all of those in the long days. Max would occasionally sit behind him and read over Charles’ shoulder, muttering about how boring some of the contents were. 

There were nights where Lando tried to read his books too, although he didn’t understand them and Charles would always make up a story to entertain him instead. After all, Plato’s Republic and the likes of other philosophers wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable thing for a kid. Lando listened to each tale with wide eyes, leaning forwards with his mouth agape at the end of each story.

The young boy was bored like the rest of him in between catching whales, and he commonly played his tambourine while sitting up on the top deck. Sebastian did his best to find things for the boy to do, such as letting him help the cook and giving him things to sort through. The crew, including Charles, let Lando hover near them when he didn't have anything to do. It ended up being almost a community effort to take care of the kid.

Charles was left with a lot of time to think clearly, and if there was nothing else for him to do, he would often sit up on the top deck, letting the breeze swirl around him as he pondered over many things.

He spent a while processing the world he had left behind, along with all the hurt and sorrow he had been carrying around with him, and it was therapeutic for him to come to terms with the changes he had made in his life and what his life was now.

He thought a lot about the isolated community he lived in now. Every day, Charles saw and talked to the same people and walked the same wooden floors, the only things that changed were the skies they were under and the seas they sailed.

Despite the isolated nature of being on a ship, Charles was absolutely amazed by how little they saw their captain. Kimi's rare appearances came mostly whenever they were chasing down a whale or when he wanted to address the crew as a whole. Other than that, he always seemed to have disappeared down below deck, and Charles had no idea where he was or what he was doing. 

Were it not for his curious mind, Charles wouldn't have questioned it or thought too hard about it. But he was always thinking and seeking knowledge, that was what had attracted him to college at first, and the mysterious behavior of their captain ate away at his conscience when he was alone with his thoughts.

Kimi said very little and most of the crew had never spoken directly to him. Sebastian often spoke on his behalf when the captain was nowhere to be seen, and Charles noticed that Seb was always close to him whenever he was on deck, the two of them muttering privately amongst themselves.

Additionally, Max had told him that the first mate and the captain often dined together, and he got the feeling that Seb knew much more about Kimi than he let on. Of course, Charles' curiosity was kept alive by the fact that it wasn't any of his business what the captain did or why he was never to be seen, or what Seb seemed so determined to hide about him.

Nevertheless, he was resigned to keep wondering about that resilient, cold Finnish captain.

Charles thought quite a bit about the whales too. The piercing cries they let out as they died always stuck with him and sometimes he felt guilty when they rang through his head.

He had learned a lot about whales in the past six months. They often travelled in groups and were elegant, gentle giants. They communicated through the songs they sang, in a recognizable pattern of regular sounds that sounded haunting to the human ears. The seemingly meaningless sounds weren't meaningless at all though, rather they were a complex, harmonic language.

The humpback whales songs were the most enrapturing to listen to in Charles' opinion. One night, they could hear a pod of humpbacks close by, singing out to one another. It was too late to lower the whaleboats and pursue any of them, so he was able to listen to them peacefully.

With Max next to him, Charles stood against the rail and listened to the melodies. He reached down to hold Max's hand, leaning against him and closing his eyes.

"They almost sound sad," he murmured, "what do you think they're saying?"

Max was quiet for a moment. "I don't know, I mean, they're whales. There's really not that much they could be talking about," he said. 

"Whales are smart, there's a lot they could be talking about. I bet they talk about the same things we do," Charles mused with a smile on his face.

"Mhm, well it's rude to listen in on a conversation, let's go to bed," Max laughed. He let go of Charles' hand and put his arm over his shoulder instead, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he pulled him into the forecastle, where some had already gone to bed.

Charles kept thinking as he pulled his clothes off and changed into loose sleepwear before climbing into the small bed next to Max. The Dutchman pulled Charles close so that he could properly spoon him, with Charles' back pressed up to his chest. Max put his arms around him and let out a relaxed sigh.

Still wide awake, Charles lay motionless in his embrace for a few minutes before he spoke up, at a quiet whisper so as not to bother anyone else.

"Do you ever feel bad about killing the whales?" he asked almost inaudibly.

"Not really. I've been doing it for long enough now that it doesn't affect me that much. We never kill the calves though, I think I would feel bad if we killed a calf," Max muttered. "Do you think I should feel bad?" he added after a second.

"No, it's not like they're killed for no reason. It's just that sometimes I feel so heartbroken by those terrible cries they make, and then I hear them sing like they were singing tonight and it makes me feel sorry for them. I guess I'm a bit more emotional than I thought I was," Charles sighed, looking back over his shoulder for a moment.

"That's life, Charles. We all struggle, whales included," Max mumbled against his neck, Charles trying not to giggle at the ticklish sensation.

"Maybe someday they'll swim in waters free of danger from people," Charles wondered.

"Hmm, we'd have to find some new work then," Max concluded. He kissed the side of Charles' neck, hoping it would get him to stop talking. Unfortunately for him, Charles' train of thought hadn't pulled into the station yet.

"What do you think they call themselves? We have names for them like sperm whale and humpback and all that, but I bet they have different names in their own minds," Charles said, lost in his head.

He heard Max let out a sigh and murmur, "I _think_ you think too much." Max's hand rested on his stomach and shifted over to his hip.

Charles ducked his head in embarrassment and apologized, "sorry, my mind is rather active tonight."

"How about you let me distract you then?" Max whispered in his ear, proceeding to lay his lips on Charles' neck once again.

Charles was going to ask what he meant until he felt Max's hand trail lower, rubbing his thigh. With a light gasp, he cocked his head to let the Dutchman mouth at his jaw as he snapped the waistband of Charles' pants.

Warmth rushed through his body, pooling in his stomach when Max slipped his hand beneath the waistband. Charles bit his lip and tried not to whimper at the feeling of fingers ghosting over his skin, traveling down to the inside of his thigh. Max let his finger nails run over the soft skin teasingly.

Pushing his body back against his lover, Charles tipped his head back and whined softly, "if you're going to touch me, then touch me."

"Shh, you don't want anyone to hear us, do you?" Max breathed, bringing his free hand up to cover Charles' mouth. The Monegasque shivered under his touch as he slowly massaged his thigh. Max nuzzled at his neck, sucking a bruising kiss onto his skin that would definitely leave a purple mark the next day.

It was torturous to Charles to wait for Max to put his hands where he wanted them. The hand on his thigh felt searingly hot, and he mewled agains the hand over his mouth. Instinctively Charles shifted his hips, trying to relieve his now aching hardness. 

"Hey, be good or I'm not giving you what you want," Max reprimanded in a husky tone. Charles instantly stilled, the effect Max's commanding voice had on him overpowering his own thoughts, which had gone blank. All he could focus on was his own strong desire and submitting himself to Max.

"Lick my hand," the Dutchman ordered silently. 

Charles didn't have to be told twice. His dragged his tongue over the palm that covered his mouth, licking it repeatedly until Max gently pressed two fingers to his lips. He eagerly took him into his mouth, sucking and lapping at them fervently. There was a growing damp spot in the fabric of his pants and he wished Max would get on with it.

When the hand petting his thigh disappeared and came up to snake around his stomach, Charles breathed out sharply and tried to resist the urge to buck his hips forward again, desperate to be touched. His want was finally met when Max retracted his fingers and stuck his now wet hand past the waistband of Charles' pants, dragging his thumb over Charles' sensitive tip. 

It took everything in Charles not to moan when Max firmly wrapped his hand around him, at first keeping still as he shushed Charles again. Max began to stroke him, slowly at first. It was almost agonizingly slow to Charles, who was pretty sure that he had never been so hot for something in his life.

A distinct bulge pressed against his back, and if it weren't for the fact that they were on a ship with other people nearby, Charles would have willingly straddled him then and there and begged Max to take him fully. The thought made him whimper once more as Max's strong hand worked him over, and he pressed his face into the pillow to keep from making any more noises.

"Do you like that?" Max asked, and Charles frantically nodded his head. Max trailed kisses down his neck as he set a faster pace, not saying anything when Charles moved his hips in time with his strokes, thrusting into his slick hand.

The heat in his stomach became tighter each second, and Charles nearly cried as he continued to think of what he wanted Max to do to him.

"I love seeing you come apart like this, seeing you lose control," Max whispered to him, and that was what tipped Charles over the edge. He came into Max's hand, shuddering and biting his fist to keep himself quiet. Max murmured approvingly to him as he caressed him through his release, only removing his hand once Charles had sighed and let his body go limp.

The harpooner grinned and wiped his hand on the outer layer of the sheets. Charles knew he would have to clean it off when he washed the bedding, but he was too tired to care. 

He had to fight to keep his eyes from falling shut as he asked, "do you want me to ah, return the favor?", still acutely aware of the hardness against his back.

"No, you go to sleep love, I can take care of myself," Max murmured, lovingly pressing a last kiss to his cheek.

Charles simply hummed in response, feeling himself fall deeper into a relaxed sleep. He'd have to ramble on more often if it meant getting _distracted_ like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me for picking the name 'squeezing sperm' for a chapter that not only includes characters literally squeezing sperm, but also a hand job. I absolutely could not resist.
> 
> sorry if that was a bit awkward? I just felt like this fic needed some sexy time. 
> 
> have a fabulous evening folks ;)


	6. A Dead Whale and A Stove Boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man this is legit my favorite fic to write, I never feel uninspired while working on it and its just so much fun :) it wouldn't be a Moby dick au if the white whale himself didn't appear so he makes his (mentioned) debut in this fic. you'll see the phrase 'stoved boat' used in here, which meant a boat that had been damaged. additionally, the second mate on a ship was most often in charge of medical treatment, which is relevant here lol.
> 
> *also theres a brief description of drowning in this chapter sooo just a heads up
> 
> also, my dude singlepringle2023 made the most beautiful mood board for this so go look at this rn, that's an order: https://singlepringle2023.tumblr.com/post/620490755338846208/moodboard-for-bingstorys-fic-the-great-shroud-of

The next morning had Charles awake bright and early, feeling well rested and in clear conscience. He was one of the first to wake and thus found himself alone on the deck, leaning against one of the masts of the ship and sipping an insipid cup of coffee. A blanket of clouds blocked out most of the sun, making it a rather gray and somber day. 

He welcomed the dreary day though, it would be nice not to have the harsh sun beating down on them for once. Charles tapped his nails on the side of the cup and looked over the horizon. It was fairly quiet out, few of the crew up and around yet. Footfalls behind him broke the silence and he looked over his shoulder to see Max approaching, yawning and rubbing at his eyes.

Max put an arm around his shoulders and pressed a lazy kiss to his cheek. Smiling, Charles put his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the salty air.

"How did you sleep last night?" Max murmured in his ear with a playful tone of voice.

“Very well, thanks to your um, you know,” Charles stammered out with a small smile.

“Jerking you off? You’re welcome,” Max finished the sentence for him.

“Yeah, that. It was enjoyable,” Charles said, feeling his cheeks flush at the word choice of his boyfriend.

Max laughed, “I could tell, you weren’t exactly silent.”

Charles had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as well; the fear of being heard by somebody had barely even crossed his mind the night before, too occupied with his own lust.

“You know, Danny said we’re supposed to stop at a port in Uruguay sometime soon,” Max brought up.

“It‘ll be nice to stand on solid land for a bit,” Charles said.

Max softly kissed his cheek and said, “not to sound too forward, but normally when we dock we end up staying in our own rooms for once, and there’s a lot more you can do at night compared to on a ship, if you catch my drift.”

It took Charles a moment to figure out what he meant, and when he did he gasped and looked down at the toe of his boots for a second.

“Stop being horny Max,” he cried, although he didn’t exactly refuse the proposition. 

The harpooner laughed and lightly slapped his shoulder. Charles couldn’t help but laugh along with him too.

“Can I have the rest of that if you aren’t going to finish it?” Max asked, nodding down to the cup in Charles’ hand. It was still warm and about half full.

“Sure, I’m not a huge fan of it anyways,” Charles handed him the cup. 

Around the deck, more of the crew gradually began to awaken and begin their day. The clouds kept them safe from the sun for a while, allowing them to work and wait without sweating unbearably.

Kevin jumped down from his watch post in the early afternoon, shouting that there was another ship headed in their direction. Many of those on the deck, including Charles, looked over the water to spot it and murmured amongst themselves. Sebastian disappeared below deck and emerged with Kimi shortly after, asking if they should anchor or keep going. 

Seeming reluctant, Kimi agreed to anchor and visit with the other ship. The men excitedly hauled the anchor over the side of the ship, slightly rocking the ship and causing a great splash of water as it broke through the surface and sank downwards. 

"What are we doing?" Charles asked Max, seeing how energetic the crew had become.

"We're going to stop and interact with whoever's on that ship for a bit. Often whaleships visit each other like this just for the sake of seeing new faces since we're around the same people for so long," Max responded. 

It took a few minutes for the other ship to get close, and Charles could read the name _Silver Arrow_ on the side of the ship, which was about the same size and build as theirs was. The crew of the newcomer ship anchored next to them and they all waved to one another before some of the strangers were welcomed to climb over the side of the _Prancing Horse_ and visit.

The crews of the two ships mingled about, swapping stories and laughing about with one another. From what Charles heard, they were finishing up the second planned year of their voyage and had had great success so far, already having met their quota for barrels of oils to bring back.

Charles stuck beside Max for most of the time, sitting in on whatever conversations Max got into. He didn't talk a ton, preferring to listen to others tales. He wasn't sure how much he believed all of them, but they were entertaining nonetheless. 

What caught his attention after a while was the sound of the _Silver Arrow_ 's captain walking on board. There was no regular one-two rhythm of steps that came when anybody else walked along the wood; instead there was a step followed by an awkward thunk, and Charles peered out of the corner of his eye to see that the man had one human leg and one wooden leg, an amputee from the knee down.

"What happened to you, sir? You weren't missing a leg the last time I came across you," Sebastian asked, helping the man find his balance. Kimi stood broodingly behind him, like he couldn't be bothered to interact on his own.

"Let me tell you the story. We were chasing after a sperm whale, a large, unnaturally white looking beast, and when my harpooner struck him, he turned around and stoved the boat, sending my men into the water. But before he left, the whale opened his mouth and bit off my leg with those glistening teeth of his," the man recalled, irritation seeping into his voice.

"The same white whale who's stoved multiple other boats, or so I've heard through the grapevine?" Seb continued. Charles wasn't even paying attention to those he was standing with anymore, his focus lay entirely on a conversation he wasn't even a part of.

"It was he. It happened in the mid Pacific but he seems to live everywhere. If you come across him, turn around and don't pursue, or else risk ending up like me or worse," the man warned, shaking his head and gesturing down to the hastily made prosthetic.

Right after he said that, an interaction took place that was so small Charles wasn't sure if his eyes were just playing tricks on him, but piqued his interest nonetheless. While Seb had nodded and voiced his sympathies for the captain's injury, Kimi had gotten a wide eyed look and nudged the back of Seb's heel with his foot. The first mate fixed him with a hard stare for a quarter of a second and seemed to mutter something.

Charles watched as the two of them bid farewell to the captain and engaged in their own hushed conversation. He was too far away to make out what they were saying, but he could see that they appeared to be arguing and Sebastian was angrily refusing something. Kimi said something that got him to cam down, though he was still visibly stirred up and crossed his arms with a pointed squint. The Finn rested his hand on Sebastian's waist for longer than what could possibly be seen as a friendly gesture before darting away, once more disappearing into the depths of the ship.

Despite knowing that he shouldn't, Charles made up his mind that he was going to find out more about their strange captain and whatever he and Sebastian seemed to be attempting to hide. The interaction had stoked the flames of his curiosity, and he knew the fire wouldn't die down until he learned more.

It wouldn't do to talk to somebody in broad daylight with such a crowd onboard, thus he waited until they said goodbye to the crew of the _Silver_ _Arrow_ and were on their way once more. In fact, he waited until it was nighttime and people were shuffling to their respective quarters for the night. Charles told Max he would come to bed shortly, and the Dutchman simply shrugged and went to change and go to sleep.

Charles delicately stepped down the stairs, descending into the lower levels of the ship and making his way to the stern, where he knew the three mates resided. Kevin wasn't in his cabin most nights, as he filled the role of a watchman, and thus his room was always dark and the door left wide open. Daniel was usually in his however, and Charles nervously stood in front of his door for a minute before working up the courage to knock.

The door swung open not long after and he was greeted by the smiling face of the Australian, who let him in at once and let the door fall shut. He had clearly been marking coordinates on maps, as the small desk in the room was cluttered with maps, an ink pot, and multiple pens. Charles would have felt bad for disrupting his work were it not for his desire to ask questions.

"What can I do for you, Leclerc? Did Max kick you out of his bed?" Daniel asked with a mischievous wink, sitting down at the desk and picking up one of the pens again.

"No, I'm not having relationship troubles. I was wondering if I could ask you something kind of odd," Charles began, taking a seat on the bed and folding his hands.

"Sure, go ahead," Daniel said, his back turned to Charles as he scribbled numbers down and circled locations.

"Do you know anything about our captain?" Charles questioned, hoping he wasn't overstepping his boundaries and what was allowed of a lowly foremast hand like himself.

Daniel set the pen down and shifted in the chair to face him. "Kimi? Yeah, I know a bit about him. I know he likes to be left alone, he drinks a lot, he and Seb are very close, and he's been whaling for quite a long time. Beyond that, I don't know him too well. He's not exactly the most social person," he answered, "why?"

"I just noticed that we practically never see him. Whenever he does appear, he hides behind Sebastian and disappears as quickly as possible, and I saw the two of them arguing today. Seb seems to get so stressed after he addresses the crew and never wants anyone to talk to Kimi unless the man himself is on deck, which is almost never," Charles explained himself, "I know I might be thinking too deeply about it, but it seems as though they are hiding something."

Daniel nodded and along and was quiet after Charles finished, appearing to be mulling it over himself.

"I see what you mean. Kimi is a bit of a...unique person. Ultimately it's not any of our business what they may or may not be refusing to tell us, but if I were you, I would talk to Seb himself. He might reprimand you for snooping on what isn't your place to know, though he's too nice to actually get mad at you," Daniel advised him. 

Charles frowned slightly and bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't know of a way to politely ask his superior if his suspicions that he and the captain were harboring some big secret were true or not. That didn't mean he wouldn't try, Charles most definitely was going to try now that Daniel had endorsed it, he simply needed to figure out a way to bring it up that didn't seem too accusing.

He also knew that he would have to talk to Sebastian sometime soon. If he let it go for too long, his courage would slip away and he'd be back to nervously wondering if he should ask questions that had been burning in his mind for a while now.

Perhaps the next day would be promising. Charles hoped so as he made his way back to the forecastle, curling up next to Max like he always did and doing his best to sleep without being kept awake by his many thoughts.

* * *

Any chances of Charles getting to talk to Sebastian the next day were pushed back by the sighting of whales, which obviously took priority over a secretive private conversation. After all, they were paid to hunt whales, not stand around and gossip. 

Charles still felt a twinge of disappointment but had no choice other than to go along and wear his arms out rowing one of the whaleboats. 

The constant splashing of saltwater soaking him was an afterthought nowadays whenever they chased down a whale, as he had been forced to learn to deal with the salt stinging at his eyes and dripping into his mouth. As gross as it was, there was nothing anybody could do about it except focus on the task at hand and ignore how drenched they became.

“Looks like a gray whale,” Daniel shouted from the front of the boat. Max stood next to him with his harpoon in hand, waiting for instructions or to be told to stand down.

"Stay on that side, we'll take a shot at it," Kevin called from a few meters away. The Dane clapped Checo's shoulder and told him to prepare to take aim. 

Charles let his rowing cease and sat up to watch. Their boat floated along the other side of the whale, almost concerningly close. As Daniel didn't tell him and the other crewmen to push further away, Charles assumed they were in a fine spot. Kevin had told them to flank the whale after all. The other two boats, headed by Seb and Kimi, sat further away, ready to make a dash at the whale if Checo missed.

The whale surfaced to breathe, and Charles could see the individual speckles of white, black, and gray of the large animal's skin. Scars and algae decorated its skin from years of roaming the sea, years which might be violently cut short in the coming hours. A puff of damp air sprang from the whales's lungs before it started to dive below the water again.

When the broadest section of the whale's back was in plain view, Checo hurled the harpoon forward and stuck it directly into the whale's dorsal ridge. The crewmen, Kevin, and Checo all crouched down out of the way of the line, not wanting to be tangled in it.

They had expected the whale to lurch forward from between the two whaleboats, dragging Kevin's behind it for a blazing journey. However, the whale didn't go in that direction. Instead, it wildly rolled to the side and took off at an awkward angle.

Charles barely had time to register what was happening before the whale’s powerful tail sent their boat flying to the side. He could’ve reached out and touched the flukes of its tail as it smacked the side of the boat. 

There was a sharp crack, another splash as the whale surged forward, and Charles found himself falling from the boat and into the choppy waters.

At first he thought the shock of the cold water was what made his body go limp upon hitting the ocean. A millisecond later and he was aware of a horrific pain in his left side, paralyzing him entirely and leaving him unable to tread in the water.

Charles felt his mind go as numb as his body as he lay helplessly in pain in the water. His eyes burned as he slowly sank downwards, the light of the sun shining down being the only way he could tell which direction was up. 

Dark red swirled into the blue water, and Charles didn’t know if it was blood from him or the whale, who was probably long gone and towing Kevin’s whaleboat behind it, leaving him to assume that he was the one bleeding. 

His lungs begged him to breathe, even though he knew he was underwater and unable to reach the air. Water filled his mouth when he desperately gasped anyways out of reflex, and Charles could do nothing except let himself drown, the entire left side of his body throbbing excruciatingly.

He was ready to give up and let the ocean take him away when a strong pair of arms suddenly grabbed him and hauled him out of the water.

Charles frantically gasped for breath as he was pulled up onto one of the other whaleboats. Whoever had grabbed him lay him down on the wooden planks; his mind was too foggy to recognize the faces and voices looking down at him and shouting.

“Get him back to the ship,” he heard somebody order, which was followed by the sudden movement of the boat. 

A surprising feeling of serenity overcame Charles. The sunlight bathing his drenched skin almost overpowered the pain in his side and the feeling of blood trickling down his skin along with drops of water. Birds flew overhead, their chirping ringing in his ears. The brilliant blue sky seemed very inviting.

Voices around him continued to whisper in distraught tones. A rush of cold air greeted his body when somebody cut through his shirt and removed it. Charles could see out of the corner of his eye that it was stained terribly, like it was when they were cutting the blubber of a whale, except it was his own blood soaking the material.

His eyelids felt unbearably heavy and eventually he closed his eyes and let his head fall to the side. Someone hastily grabbed his wrist and another hand was under his jaw.

Beyond that, Charles wasn’t aware of what was happening and fell into brief unconsciousness. 

* * *

When he woke up some unknown amount of time later, the first thing Charles noticed was that he was in a small room underneath a sheet. His back ached from the wooden table he had been laid down on, another sheet hastily thrown over it as a makeshift bed.

He felt weak and exhausted, and when he tried to sit up he was kept down by the ache in his side. It wasn’t as severe as it had been when he was nearly drowning but it still hurt badly enough to render him mostly immobile.

Charles looked to the side to see Daniel and Sebastian sitting on the floor. The Australian appeared to have dozed off and Seb was looking down at his folded hands.

His throat was incredibly dry, so much so that when he tried to talk all that came out was a strained gasp.

Both Seb and Daniel were awake and on their feet in an instant, rushing to his side. 

“Get him some water,” Sebastian ordered. Daniel rushed off as the first mate put his hand against Charles’ forehead to check his temperature.

One of the pillows from the forecastle had been put under his head and Seb helped him adjust it to be more comfortable. Daniel returned a minute later with a cup of water in hand. 

As Charles was too weary to lift it himself, Sebastian had to help him sit up and Daniel held it to his lips. The water was cool and soothing on his throat and chapped lips. All of it was gone rather quickly.

“What happened?” He choked out after laying back down again.

“The whale hit the side of the whaleboat that you were sitting on and damaged it. You got stabbed by part of the wood that came off and fell in the water,” Seb explained, keeping a hand on his shoulder.

“You would’ve drowned if it weren’t for Valtteri pulling you out,” Daniel added, “we got you back to the ship and took the wood out. Kid, it was really lodged in there, you're lucky it didn't puncture an organ. I stitched you up as best as I could.” 

Charles peeked underneath the sheets to see gauze and bandages wrapped around his stomach, hiding the stitches and the fresh wound. He also noticed that his pants were missing too, though he was too tired to care or be embarrassed.

“...was anyone else hurt?” he muttered, concerned by the fact that Max wasn’t in the room.

“No, only you. The boat wasn’t too badly damaged either. Hell, you honestly fared worse than the boat did,” Seb chuckled.

“Oh...did you guys get the whale?” Charles asked. 

Sebastian nodded, “Checo speared and Kevin killed it. The rest of the crew is out processing it right now. Max begged to see you and seemed to be on the verge of strangling me when I told him to get to work and let you rest.” 

“You were awake for the entire time I was fixing you up but you were really out of it. Do you even remember it?” Daniel asked with a smile.

Charles shook his head.

“I’d imagine the blood loss made you rather drowsy. You bled a lot, it’s a miracle you made it,” Daniel added, with wide eyes.

“Does it still hurt pretty badly?” Seb asked sympathetically, to which Charles nodded.

The German continued with, “you’ll be bedridden for a bit. We’re only about a weeks journey from the port we’re supposed to dock at, so there’s not much you’ll be missing. And I’d recommend you get that checked out by a real doctor when we’re docked, no offense Daniel.”

Daniel shrugged and said, “none taken.”

"Can I see Max now?" Charles whispered. Although he wanted to go to sleep desperately, he wanted to see Max and let him know he was alright soon.

"I'll go get him. He can be done with the whale for now, I'm sure he'll want to spend the night with you," Seb said. He and Daniel left the room, leaving Charles alone in the small space. 

Charles shivered and clutched the sheet, wishing he was able to get up and dress himself. The door creaked open and in stepped Max.

The Dutchman was at his side in an instant, cupping his cheek and looking down at him with a concerned face. Tears shined in his eyes and he stroked his face with his thumb.

“Are you alright?” Max asked tearfully. Charles leaned into his touch and placed a hand over Max’s.

“I think so. I feel so tired and it still hurts so badly,” Charles whimpered. 

Max leaned down and kissed his forehead, unsure if he was going to hurt Charles by touching him much.

“Could you help me get dressed? They ah, cut off my clothes it seems,” Charles asked sheepishly.

Max nodded and followed up with, “I’ll get something from your trunk,” before shuffling out the door once more.

Charles could see where his now torn clothes sat on the floor. Given the massive amount dark stains from his bleeding, he could understand why Daniel had gotten rid of the clothes to work on him.

The second time he came through the door, Max had a fresh pair of Charles’ clothes in his arms. Charles did his best to not just sit there uselessly but Max ended up having to dress him mostly on his own, as if he were a toddler. Though he found it a tad bit humiliating, Charles was grateful to be dressed and warmer now.

“Where did they put me?” Charles wondered, having realized he didn’t recognize the room he was in.

“The cook’s quarters. They cleared the room out and put you on the table. You probably won’t be able to walk for a few days so if you want to go somewhere, I’ll help you,” Max offered.

Charles eventually wanted to sleep in an actual bed, however the table turned hospital bed was good enough for him that night.

“I’ll just sleep here for now. Is it late?” he murmured, once more barely able to keep his eyes open.

“It’s a little before midnight. You were out cold for a long time,” Max answered, running a hand through Charles’ hair affectionately.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Charles breathed out.

“Of course.”

The last thing he was aware of was the feeling of Max’s hand resting over his own before he drifted off, the dull pain overshadowed by his need for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god I felt so bad when people were saying how surprisingly wholesome this fic was ssjdhhsd sorry fellas, it gets a little unwholesome. 
> 
> also I feel like I need fucken footnotes on this to explain different terms and shit rather than just explaining it in the beginning notes lmfao


	7. In the Mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back with some whaler lestappen for all you nautical folks out there :) there's more uhh sexy time in this one and I was hoping to come up with another sex-and-plot related title but this one isn't as good as the last one lol. hope its enjoyable tho :-)

A pair of brown eyes accompanied by a spattering of freckles stared at Charles when he woke up. It took him a moment to realize that it was Checo standing next to him, keeping a hand on Charles' shoulder and pushing him gently back down when Charles tried to sit up. The sharp pain in his side persisted, making him too weak to protest or even sit up on his own if he weren't being held down.

"Where'd Max go?" Charles asked. He couldn't tell if it was day or night, the door of the cook's room shut and with no windows. For all he knew, he had been asleep for either five minutes or five hours.

"He went to get something to eat. Kimi ordered for somebody to be with you at all times, so I took over for Max while he went to eat. He was with you the entire night," Checo responded, adjusting the blanket over Charles and helping him get as comfortable as it was possible to be while laying on a wooden plank table.

"Do you need a drink or anything?" he continued, looking down at him with a concerned gaze. Charles briefly felt like he was one of the man's kids and got the feeling that he was a great parent.

"Um, that would be nice, thanks," Charles mumbled. It was embarrassing to not even be able to drink water without somebody propping him up and holding a cup to his lips, but that was all he could do and he was grateful for the water and the kindness of his shipmates to care for him like he was a newborn.

Checo asked him about a thousand other questions, mostly to keep Charles awake and entertained, until Max came through the door to take over as Charles' nurse again, ushering Checo out of the room. He was by Charles' side in a second, leaning down to kiss him sweetly and brush a strand of hair out of his eyes.

Max smiled down at him and said, "how are you today, my little patient?"

"Tired, and my spine feels like I've been laying on stone for a year. But I don't feel as dead as I did yesterday, so I guess you could say I'm doing a bit better," Charles said, clutching Max's hand. He studied Max's features for a second before adding, "you look rather tired as well." The dark spots underneath his eyes and the weary look on his face gave it away, no matter how much Max might try to insist that he wasn't tired.

"Well I was up most of the night watching you. But I'm not the one to be worrying about right now, you nearly died yesterday," Max firmly insisted, his eyes softening as he cupped Charles' cheek. Charles was fairly sure he could see tears gleaming in his eyes, although he got the notion that Max was probably too proud to admit he was on the verge of crying if Charles said anything about it.

"I'm alive though, and I have no plans of leaving you anytime soon. I promise," Charles whispered. Since he couldn't sit up and kiss him, Charles had to tug at the front of the Dutchman's shirt until Max understood what he wanted and pressed their lips together once more.

Max's lips were warm and soft, a comforting presence that enveloped him so strongly that Charles momentarily forgot about the ache in his side, the exhaustion that tied him down, and the stiffness in his spine. Kissing him was something Charles was sure he could never tire of.

Standing up straight, Max pulled something out of his pocket and said, "I brought you something to eat. It's about time that you got some food in you." Into Charles' hand he placed a roll of bread, presumably something he had saved from the morning meal.

"I don't feel like eating," Charles muttered. Realistically he knew that he should eat something, since he hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning. 

"You have to eat something, Charles, it'll make you feel a little bit better," Max urged him. He took the roll back and tore a little piece off, holding it to Charles' lips and expectantly staring at him. 

Rolling his eyes, Charles ate the bread offered to him, which earned him an approving nod from Max. As usual, the bread was dry and rather crumbly, but Charles was used to it and was surprised to find that he began to feel the hunger that his body seemed to have forgotten about for the past day after he swallowed it. 

"I think I can eat the rest of it on my own," Charles laughed, taking the roll into his own hands again. He finished it in a few minutes and did feel somewhat replenished by it, with Max making him drink some more water afterwards too.

Max was wiping a drop of water from his face with his sleeve when the door creaked open and Daniel poked his head in.

"Can I change your bandages now Charles?" he asked, eyes flickering between the two.

"Sure, it's not like there's anything that I'd be busy with right now," Charles sighed. 

Daniel chuckled and pushed the door further open, carrying more than Charles was expecting him to have in his hands. There was a pail partially filled with water, a towel, and what looked like cotton and fabric bandages. The second mate knelt by the table and set the pail on the floor, setting the cotton and bandages on the table so they wouldn't touch the ground. 

"Max, I'll need you to help with some of this. Wound care tends to be a two man job when it's on this severe of an injury," Daniel explained as he pulled the sheet down past Charles' hips. 

Max nodded and stood on the opposite side of the table, watching as Daniel pushed Charles' shirt up to expose the bandages wrapped around his stomach.

"Help him sit up a bit," Daniel ordered. 

Charles winced when Max slipped an arm around him and helped him into a slightly sitting position. A searing pain jolted through his left side as Max held him up while Daniel undid the bandages already on him. By the time he was done and Max helped him lay back down, Charles was seconds away from crying. If even just sitting up was that painful for him, Charles was afraid of how long it would be until he was regularly walking and moving around again. It was all he could do to hope for a quick recovery.

Max comfortingly squeezed his hand for a moment before walking over to stand behind Daniel and watch. Daniel dipped the corner of the towel into the pail of water and began to lightly dab at Charles' side, washing away the blood that had accumulated overnight. The water was cold and made Charles flinch the first time he felt it on his skin. It proved to be rather soothing after the first few seconds, dulling the sting of the air against the fresh wound.

"The bleeding stopped overnight. And not to pat myself on the back but the stitches look alright too," Daniel noted as he tenderly patted the skin dry again with the other side of the towel.

Craning his neck to look down at himself, Charles caught a glimpse of his wound for the first time. A long line of eerie stitches ran from his hip to the middle of his ribs, between his side and the top of his stomach, and looking at it made Charles feel violently ill. He looked back up at the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut after looking at it for less than three seconds.

"That'll definitely leave a rather visible scar, no?" Max asked, bending down to get a closer look.

"For sure. You'll have a scar with one hell of a story, kid," Daniel responded, pushing the pail away, "Maxy I need you to sit him up again so I can rewrap it."

Charles grimaced and groaned in pain when Max helped lift him up. He tried to breathe steadily as Daniel pressed the cotton against the wound and began to wrap the fresh bandages around his torso, making sure it was tight enough so it would stay securely put. The minutes felt like hours to him and he sighed heavily when Max helped him lay back down, fixing his shirt to cover the newly wrapped bandages.

"Hope you feel better soon, Charles. We'll get you to a doctor once we dock in a few days just in case my expert surgery wasn't that good," Daniel chided, giving him a friendly smile before shuffling out of the room with the pail and bloodied towel.

"I don't want to have an ugly scar," Charles whined, shuddering at the thought of seeing it every time he dressed himself or took a bath.

"If it's any consolation," Max began, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "I happen to think scars are pretty attractive."

Charles blushed and laughed, feeling a bit less melancholy about his present state and how it would affect him in the future. With Max taking care of him, he was sure that he'd make a full recovery.

They sat together in the quiet, dim little room for a while, with Max sitting on an empty crate that had been pushed into the room for whoever was taking care of the injured Monegasque. Charles had very little to do except lay there and look at the wooden boards above him, and so he was thankful to have Max keeping him company. As they talked, Max noticed how Charles shifted uncomfortably on the table.

"Do you want to go lay in bed? I could help you get upstairs. I know you said that the table is making your back hurt," Max offered, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yes, that sounds nice. We might need two people to get me up the stairs though," Charles said, fully anticipating that it would be a slow journey for him to get to the forecastle.

"Let's get you up then," Max pulled the sheet off of Charles and let it pile at the end of the table. He helped Charles slowly sit up and swing his legs over the side of the table, properly sitting up for the first time since his injury. Charles closed his eyes and dug his nails into the wooden planks at first, the ache in his side flaring up and nausea overtaking him.

It took a minute for him to be able to open his eyes and mutter, "I'm ready." Max firmly put an arm around him and Charles leaned heavily against him as he slid off the table and his feet hit the ground. He felt exhausted and weak all over once more and knew that he wouldn't be able to walk without someone holding him up as Max was. Once he was somewhat steady, most of his weight supported by Max, Charles took small, slow steps, shuffling along and out of the room. It was rather painful but not unbearably so, with the pain making him all the more aware of every movement he made.

After what seemed like a rather long time, they made it out of the cook's quarters and down the hall, now at the bottom of the staircase. Suddenly the simple wooden stairs looked much longer and more intimidating than he remembered.

"I'm not sure if I can make it up the stairs," Charles gulped, hating how helpless he had been rendered.

"I've got you. Just lean on me and don't rush," Max reassured him, his arm nestled underneath Charles' shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, Charles hesitantly stepped upwards, leaning on Max as he pulled his injured side up. It hurt more to walk up the stairs than it did to walk on the flat floor, and he was a little embarrassed at how long it took him to get up a short flight of stairs. Max was holding him up the entire time, and it was a small victory for them both when Charles stepped up onto the deck and into the open air.

The sunlight warmed his skin and a few of those on deck clapped and cheered to see him up and moving around, even if it was difficult for him. Charles grinned as Max steered him towards the forecastle, encouraged by the enthusiasm of his shipmates. Eventually they made it to the forecastle, with Charles taking one last agonizing step before he was able to sit on the bed that he and Max normally curled up together in, sighing once he got his legs up and was able to lay back.

"I'll have to be very careful when going to sleep tonight," Max cooed, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a hand through Charles' hair.

Over the next few days, Charles spent most of his time in bed, gaining enough strength to sit up instead of laying on his back. He was rather bored but felt too tired to do much other than talk to people and mend clothes, which he had become rather good at during the course of his time at sea so far. There was rarely a moment where someone, sometimes multiple people, wasn't sitting at his side and diligently watching over him. Most of the time it was Max, who fretted over him like Charles was his child, and who Charles was perfectly happy to spend hours on end with.

Occasionally others came to sit with him, often Checo who helped him with sewing or Daniel who cheerfully chattered away and changed his bandages at least twice a day. Kevin even left his watch duties to someone else one night to sit with him, and Charles endlessly thanked Valtteri for saving him when the Finn came to see him one morning. 

With the humility and grace which he normally carried himself with, Valtteri simply nodded his head and mumbled a ' _you're welcome_ ' every time Charles was brought to the edge of tears by recalling how he had nearly drowned, and how it would have been the end for him if it weren't for Valtteri.

Young Lando bounded up to him more than once and wanted to see the scar on his side, and thankfully Charles could rely on the fact that it was covered by bandages as an excuse not to show him. The boy would pout but then start talking about something else or listen to whatever Max was telling Charles with wide, glittering eyes.

Sebastian and Max both insisted that Charles get up and walk around for a few minutes each day. He wasn't able to walk without somebody supporting him yet, but Charles slowly began to recover and the pain in his side wasn't as bad with each passing day.

In the back of his mind he felt frustrated that he hadn't had a chance to talk to Sebastian about his curiosities about Kimi. With all the time he had, there should be no reason for him to put it off, but the man never bothered to stick around him for more than a few minutes at a time, and it was rather difficult for Charles to have a private conversation with somebody while he had people fawning over him like he was a puppy.

Thus, he was resigned to keep wondering until he was able to catch Sebastian alone.

* * *

A couple days later, they saw the shoreline for the first time in months. As they crept closer and closer, the details of the land became more and more visible, and by midday, they could see ships docked in the harbor that they were headed towards.

There was an air of excitement about the ship, with most of the crew ready to take a break from the sea and spend a few days on land. It even caught on to Charles, who limped out of bed with Max's help and over to the side of the ship to look for a few minutes, admiring the dark waters of the Rio de la Plata and watching as they got closer to the port.

The dock was in the mouth of the river, meaning that it didn't take long for them to sail into the harbor.

Charles had to sit down again after a few minutes, and as much as he wished he could be up and walking around again, he wasn't too upset about not having to help pull the boat into the harbor. Instead he sat in bed, and Lando came running into the room shortly.

"Hi," the boy said shyly, sitting down on the floor next to him, "Seb told me to come sit with you."

"Hey buddy," Charles said with a friendly smile. He knew that the child seemed to get on more with Max than with him, and he wasn't sure what to say at first. Normally Max was there too when Lando talked to him, and this time he was out helping on deck.

"Are you happy to get off the ship for a bit?" he settled for asking.

Lando looked deep in thought for a second before answering, "I guess. The port stops are usually boring for me though."

"Why is that?" Charles asked.

"I don't know. There's just not much for me to do. Sebastian doesn't let me go anywhere without him and he is always doing business stuff," Lando shrugged, frowning and twiddling his thumbs.

"How about you come and spend some time with me during the days? I'll still be sitting around in bed mostly while we're there, and we could keep one another company. I'm sure Seb will be alright with that," Charles proposed, watching the boy break out into a big grin.

"Really?" Lando exclaimed, to which Charles nodded.

They spent the better part of the next few hours talking, with the older telling the younger stories about his life at college and different things he had learned about and seen. Lando seemed enthralled to hear about different places he had been to and asked a dozen questions, and Charles wondered once more where the boy had come from.

Once the boat was tied at the dock, there was a bustle of commotion as the crew waited for orders. Sebastian didn't keep them waiting for long and decided to put the work of unloading casks and barrels off until the next morning, for it was nearly evening already and they ran the risk of working late into the night if they began immediately. They would be staying at the port for three days, leaving enough time for them to unload products and bring more food and water onto the ship for the next leg of their journey.

There was also the matter of getting Charles to a doctor. He didn't think it was necessary, as he seemed to be healing just fine even if it came along slowly, but Max and Sebastian were insistent that he get the stitches looked over by a medical professional. For the sake of helping them sleep better at night, Charles figured he would go along with it.

Max came to him once Sebastian was done addressing the crew. He gently urged Lando out of the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, pressing a kiss to Charles' forehead.

"I want to find a place to stay before we get you to a doctor. I can go by myself to find lodging and then come and get you, if walking around for a while would be too difficult for you," Max suggested.

Charles shook his head, "no, I'm sick of being cooped up in this room and on this boat. I'm good to go with you." He crossed his arms indignantly and sat up straight, determined not to be left on the ship while Max looked for lodging.

"Are you sure?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow doubtfully. 

"Max Verstappen, you are not leaving me on this boat for a second longer," Charles stated, putting an end to any further debate. He kicked the sheets off and shakily swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

"Alright then, but if you get worn out, I'm not sure I can carry you along with our luggage," Max laughed. He knelt on the floor and pulled each of their suitcases out from beneath the bed before standing up and extending a hand to Charles. The Monegasque pulled himself up, wobbling for a moment and finding his balance when Max steadied him with his arm.

Charles gripped his trunk in one hand and put the other on Max's shoulder. He didn't need to be practically held up when he walked anymore, but he wasn't able to fully do it on his own yet. Despite his injury, he limped off the ship with Max and onto the dock. At first it felt weird to be walking on solid land and not the sea, which was always slightly moving and never entirely still.

"Some time on land will do you good," Max murmured as he watched Charles try to adapt to being on the ground for the first time in months, trying not to laugh.

They made their way off the dock and into the bustling town, as did the rest of the ship's crew. People milled about in the streets and in the buildings that lined the streets, and it reminded Charles of New Bedford except with a more global population. All around him he heard countless different languages spoken by all different types of people, dressed uniquely in their respective homelands' clothes. It was as if the whole world was in the city, and Charles would have liked to just stopped and watched people go by if it weren't for the ache in his side and Max guiding him along at a steady pace.

It wasn't difficult to find an inn in a port city. With a never ending flow of people coming and going, there was always bound to be places that catered to the traveller like so. 

Charles awkwardly hung on to Max's arm to keep himself up while the Dutchman politely talked to the keeper of an inn they stumbled across, looking around the front room to see a few of their fellow shipmates in the same place. It reminded him of the place he and Max had met, although it was a bit larger and with less strange faces decorating the front room.

Just like before, he and Max were to sleep together. Things were deliberately planned that way this time, and there would be no mildly unpleasant meetings involving a knife. Charles smiled and thought to himself how far they had come and how much things had changed between them from the first time that they met as Max helped him down the hall.

The room they were in was small but not cramped, and Charles nearly cried in relief when he lay down on the bed and was cradled by a real mattress and supportive bed frame for the first time in a while. He wasn't even aware of how sore his back was until he was laying there, relaxing back into the soft pillows and letting his eyes fall shut.

Max fondly looked up at him as he set their things down. 

"Are you tired?" he asked softly, running his hand over Charles' leg and smiling down at him. Charles peeked up at him through half lidded eyes and was surprised to find himself barely able to keep awake.

"Yes," he yawned, "that was more than I've walked in so long." Charles wished he could roll on his side and go to sleep. He got the feeling that doing so would be very painful for him in his present state and elected to lay on his back, as much as he wanted to sleep like he naturally would.

"You sleep for now. I'll wander around the city for a bit and find a doctor to see you," Max said, patting his thigh once before getting up and wandering over to the dresser that stood on the other side of the room. Most of the drawers were empty save for the bottom one, which held a spare quilt. He draped it over Charles, who was already dozing off, and kissed his cheek.

* * *

The feeling of something cold against his side woke Charles a few hours later. An unfamiliar figure was crouched next to him, swiping cotton soaked in what smelled like a strong disinfectant over his side. His shirt had been undone and the bandages were nowhere to be seen, and Charles tried not to jump back out of shock at first.

Max, who was standing at the foot of the bed and watching, didn't seem to notice that Charles was awake until he made a noise and looked between the stranger and his harpooner.

"Charles, be still. Checo helped me find a doctor, he's just going to take your stitches out now," Max explained, and Charles now remembered where they were and what was happening. He thought it was too early for his stitches to come out, but if a medical professional thought it was time, then he wasn't going to question it.

The doctor dried his skin with a fresh swab of cotton and pulled a pair of thin scissors and tweezers out of his case. Charles didn't like the thought of sharp objects being that close to such a delicate area of his body and turned his head the other way, staring at the wall and trying not to cringe as he heard the scissors snipping at the stitches. There was a slight pinching sensation when the stitches were pulled out with the tweezers, and Charles held his breath until it was over.

Only when he heard the doctor click his case shut did Charles turn his head back, anxiously peering down at his side while Max talked to the doctor. It looked less grizzly than it did with the stitches in and Charles wasn't immediately repulsed by it this time. The scar tissue was still fresh and Charles knew that he would have to be careful not to agitate it until it fully healed.

Tears gathered in his eyes as he bitterly remembered that it would be there for the rest of his life. Charles didn't want to recall the experience of drowning every time he looked at his own body. He didn't care that his skin was going to be blemished, rather it was the trauma associated with it that made him hate it.

Max shut the door to the room the moment that the doctor left. He shushed Charles and sat down next to him, pulling him to sit in his lap and gently rubbing his back. Charles hid his face in Max's shoulder and cried softly, his breathing eventually evening out after he let his tears out.

"The doctor said to leave it uncovered now. It will be less visible with time, but he said the scar tissue will always be there," Max whispered to him, letting Charles cry in his arms. It took a few minutes for Charles to calm down enough to be able to talk.

"Do you think it will always be like this?" Charles mumbled, looking at Max through teary eyes, "will it always feel like I'm drowning again when I look at it?"

Max brushed his tears away with the back of his hand and searched his sad eyes, hating the pain that he found there.

"Very few things in life have the luxury of staying the same. The only thing we can do is to have a good grip on what we can control, and let go of what we can't,” Max mused quietly, keeping his hand on Charles’ cheek.

“What do you mean?” Charles sniffled.

“Well, you can’t control what a dead whale did to you in the past,” Max went on, “but you can control what you do when you’re reminded of it. You can control your breathing and you can control your posture. You can control what you’re doing and where you are.” 

Charles nodded and relaxed into his hold, letting his head rest on the Dutchman’s shoulder and clinging to him. Max kissed the top of his head and lay back on the bed, with Charles lying on top of him. It was nice to lay with one another on something softer than a creaky wooden bunk on a ship, and Charles wished he could stay in Max's arms like that forever.

“I’ll try to do that. It’s just hard to look at it when there’s such bad memories attached to it,” Charles sighed, nuzzling his cheek against his lover's chest.

“Mhmm, maybe we should make some new memories then,” Max suggested with a smile, brushing his fingers through Charles’ hair, “lay down on your back.”

Charles raised an eyebrow but did so anyways, carefully rolling off of Max and onto his back. He blushed when Max settled between his legs and leaned over him, kissing him deeply and pushing his unbuttoned shirt down off his shoulders. The garment was tossed to the side and there was now no longer any confusion on Charles' part about what Max had meant. 

"Wait, Max, I don't know if, um, doing something like this would hurt my side or not," Charles gasped when they pulled apart, breathless and desperately wishing that he wasn't still so frail.

"Just relax, Charles, I'll take care of you," Max whispered in his ear, and any further comments from Charles went out the window when Max kissed him again. Charles let his eyes fall shut, letting Max take control of the kiss and whining softly into his mouth. Max tenderly kissed his jaw before bending down and pressing his lips to his stomach, which made Charles giggle. He found the sound to be embarrassing while Max thought it was adorable and wanted to hear him make more noise.

Charles shuddered when Max began to warmly kiss his side, inching closer and closer to the healing scar that upset Charles so much. He tangled his fingers into Max's hair and inhaled sharply at the feeling of Max's soft lips against the scar, the skin still being rather sensitive. It was the first time in a while that he had felt something that was actually pleasant on that side of his body, and Charles quickly became a mewling mess under Max's touch. 

Max was careful to never fully put his weight on Charles, afraid of hurting him, and he sat up to pull Charles' pants off after paying attention to his injured side in hopes of taking his mind off things for a bit.

"I don't know exactly what you're planning to do but I do know that I don't want to be the only one losing clothes here," Charles chided with a pout and a bat of his eyelashes. Max grinned and pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside along with Charles' pants. 

"Is this better?" Max purred, to which Charles nodded as he looked over his body and felt a familiar heat flow through himself.

The only thing left to do a poor job of hiding Charles' arousal was his thin underwear, which Max slowly took off as he sucked bruising kisses onto the pale skin of Charles' inner thighs. Charles squeaked and felt his cheeks flush heavily at being entirely undressed in front of the Dutchman for the first time. All of their rushed moments of passion on the ship had been in the dark of night with as much of their clothing as possible still on, just in case somebody else woke up or walked in on them. But now they were on their own entirely, in a candle lit room with all the time and privacy in the world, and Charles was glad to see that the sight of himself in the nude was having a similar effect on Max as being kissed and touched all over was having on him.

"You have gotten stronger," Max observed, running a hand over the defined muscles of Charles' arms and abdomen. Charles had noticed it himself that he wasn't as thin and lean as he had been before his work on the ship began.

"Probably from all that rowing," Charles whispered, similarly appreciating Max's strong form.

Max knelt between his thighs and murmured, "I swear, of all the evening stars, you're the fairest," before taking Charles into his mouth. 

Charles moaned and let his legs fall further open, not sure if the sweet words or the warmth of Max's mouth was making him feel tingly and hot all over. He didn't have the energy to do much other than sit there and let sounds of pleasure fall from his lips as Max bobbed his head up and down, running his tongue along the underside and the head of Charles' arousal. Any worries of his were completely gone as the only thing that filled his mind was the heat around him and his desire for more.

Max hummed around him and stroked Charles' legs as he took him in and out of his mouth, and Charles couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Max's lips wrapped around himself. It was too wet, too hot, too perfect for him to handle, and it wasn't long before Charles could feel himself on the verge of spilling into Max's mouth.

"Ah, Max, fuck," Charles swore as he came, biting his lip and making what he knew was probably an odd face. Max stilled and swallowed easily before pulling off of Charles, his lips red and shiny.

Max smiled and flopped down next to him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and lazily rubbing his arm.

"I told you I thought scars were attractive," he teased, pressing himself up against Charles. The Monegasque could feel Max's hardness against his hip and wanted to return the favor, eager to make him come apart and pleasure him in return.

"Now you let me take care of you," Charles breathed, pulling Max into a kiss with one hand and toying with the waistband of his pants with the other. He slipped his hand into his pants and wrapped his hand around Max, pleased when the Dutchman moaned into his mouth as he stroked him, slowly at first and increasing the pace after a minute. Max bucked his hips up into Charles' hand and was coming a second later, with Charles continuing to stroke him through his release. 

The two panted and smiled at each other in their euphoric haze, and Charles shifted closer to let Max embrace him. He was laying on his uninjured side and cuddled into Max's chest, with the harpooner wrapping an arm around his waist. They fell asleep holding one another like they normally did, and Charles was glad to have all of his worries slip away for one night. He might wake up to the chaotic world that he was accustomed to tomorrow, but for now, there was nothing he cared about outside of the small room he was dozing off in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaoo this was my attempt at making the good suck sound a little elegant sjshdjhfh sorry this wasn't the most action packed chapter in the world.
> 
> and get it? in the mouth? theyre on the mouth of a river? and max got a mouthful? :) bad joke lolol


	8. The Honor and Glory of Whaling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii, sorry it's been a while since I added a chapter to this, been busy with other fics and other parts of life :o) I'm not gonna lie I only proofread the first half of this chapter jshdhs
> 
> anyways, the title of this chapter is also the title of a chapter in moby dick hehe, and I use the line in a piece of dialogue here so thank you Herman Melville I love you ❤️ in case sarcasm isnt ur forte: there is no honor and glory in whaling 
> 
> I have started a little drawing based off of this fic, I'll link it if I ever actually finish it sjsdhdh 🙈🙈

A sudden weight on his lap and someone chanting his name woke Charles up, and he cringed as he felt the ache in his side become irritated by being jumped on. He sat up and opened his eyes to see Lando sitting on the bed, having planted himself in Charles' lap and babbling away too quickly for Charles to keep up with.

"Hey, hey, slow down a bit there kiddo," Charles yawned. Rubbing his eyes and blinking in the morning light, Charles saw that Max wasn't in the room, presumably having been up for much longer than he had.

Lando quieted down and moved to sit beside Charles rather than on top of him when he saw that he was hurting him. The boy curiously looked around the room and back at Charles before asking, "why are your clothes all over the floor?"

Charles jolted upright and looked over the side of the bed to find that his clothes were indeed all over the floor and he wasn't wearing anything underneath the sheets, which he was now grateful to have over top of him. He felt his cheeks flush crimson as he recalled what Max had initiated the night before, and he tried to come up with an answer that was suitable to tell a young kid.

"Um, I got warm during the night," he settled for, "do you think you could go get me something to eat so I can get dressed?"

Lando smiled and nodded, slipping off the bed and skipping out the door in a few seconds, the heavy wooden door falling shut behind him. Charles let out an amused chuckle and kicked the blankets off, slowly swinging his legs over to see if he could stand up on his own.

To his relief, he could stand up, albeit a bit slow and shaky. Charles carefully walked around the room to pick his clothes up, keeping a hand on the bed to support himself. He was much stronger now than he was a week ago, not quite back to his prime but able to get around mostly on his own. After pulling his clothes back on, Charles stumbled over to the mirror that hung above a dresser and inspected himself.

Tired eyes greeted him, although he knew it was mostly due to what little energy he had from recovering and trying to get back to his normal physical health. A tan had also come over his skin; no longer was Charles a pale, frail student huddled up in a library reading Homer. He was a working sailor, and the muscle on him that had developed and the tan he had showed it. 

Charles frowned and ran a hand through his hair. It had gotten a bit longer and shaggier over the months, which were almost stretching into one full year, and Charles was one of few men on the ship who hadn't trusted Daniel with a pair of scissors to cut his hair. The Australian didn't necessarily do a _bad_ job, Charles just wasn't sure he wanted to be on the receiving end of his energetic makeshift barber work. Max didn't mind his hair being a bit fluffier though, on account of the way he liked to nuzzle his cheek against it and pat Charles' head affectionately.

A loud series of knocks on the door interrupted his train of thought.

"Come on in, Lando," Charles called with a smile. He carefully stepped back over to sit on the bed, swinging his legs up to lean back against the pillows.

Lando came in with a cup and the end of a loaf of bread. Skipping over to climb up beside Charles, he narrowly avoided spilling the cup of water. Charles took the bread and water from him and let Lando cuddle up against his side. 

"So..did Seb tell you to come visit me or did you need something?" Charles asked, swallowing a bite of the bread.

"He told me to stay with you for a bit. He and Kimi never let me do anything with them," Lando complained, crossing his arms and letting out a huff of breath. The boy was tiny, little enough for Charles to have easily picked him up with one arm, and his personality combined with how small he was always put a smile on Charles' face.

"You're too young, buddy, you've got some growing up to do before you can help out and work," Charles explained to him, placing the cup on the nightstand so that he could wrap an arm around Lando.

"I guess you're right. It's so boring when we're at docks, I never get to do anything and I just have to sit around until Seb and Kimi are done working for the day. Even that's boring though, they just tell me that they have to 'talk business' and tell me to go play somewhere," Lando went on. He had brought his signature tambourine with him, although he simply fiddled with the metal rims instead of trying to play it.

Charles raised an eyebrows and swallowed the last of the bread. What Lando had said got him thinking again, and he thought he was well enough to try to talk to Sebastian and see if he could get some of his nosy questions answered. Of course, he could have learned a thing or two about their captain and whatever he and Seb seemed to be hiding by asking Lando, but Charles felt like relying on a nine year old for that information wasn't right and also not the most trustworthy option.

"Well, you've got me to keep you company for these few days. I'm also not allowed to do much, still recovering from that injury," Charles smiled softly down at him, "speaking of Seb, would you mind asking him if I could talk to him later?" 

Lando shrugged, "yeah, I will." He got a wide eyed look on his face and looked up at Charles before saying his favourite sentence in the whole world, "can you tell me a story?"

"Of course I can," Charles laughed, "let me think of one that I haven't told you yet." Lando liked to hear both stories from his personal life experience and hearing Charles tell him shortened versions of things he had read in college. Many of them had to be cleaned up a bit to tell a little kid, Greek tragedies and portions of The Tale of Genji weren't always suitable for children after all, but Charles enjoyed telling him the stories nonetheless. It kept the energetic boy entertained and gave him something to do and something to think about.

"Let me tell you about a horse called Bucephalus," Charles began, and Lando put his head on his shoulder and hugged Charles like the young man was his mother. Charles felt his heart fill with love for the boy, which surprised him a bit. Lando had become attached to him and Max and the connection was starting to go the other way too. 

They spent the next few hours with Charles telling Lando the story of Bucephalus, the Ancient Macedonian warhorse who carried the legendary Alexander through Persia. Lando liked to hear stories about animals; they typically interested him much more than stories about the lives of people of the past. Already Charles had exhausted his supply of whale stories, and so he had moved on to horse stories.

"When his beloved Bucephalus died, Alexander buried him and named a city after him," Charles murmured to Lando, who had begun falling asleep over the course of the story. 

Charles leaned down to press a kiss to Lando's hair and was about to tuck the sheets around him when there was gentle knock at the door, much quieter than when Lando had barged in with his breakfast. 

He looked up to see Checo's freckled face peeking through the door, with Max behind him looking over his shoulder. The Dutchman had a bright look in his eye and a smile on his face, and Charles wasn't sure why it made him blush and look down at his lap. The two of them stepped into the room, with Checo coming closer and kneeling next to the bed.

"Do you want me to take Lando for now?" Checo asked quietly.

Charles looked between him and the sleeping boy, unsure at first. His instincts said to keep laying with Lando and take a nap with him, but he could tell that Max wanted his attention and he knew that it would do him good to get up and move around for a while.

"Sure, I should get up for a bit anyways," Charles nodded. He watched as Checo went to the other side of the bed and carefully picked up Lando, carrying him like he probably did his own sleeping children back at home. The Mexican's fatherly instincts never failed to impress Charles, who wondered how the hell a man so sweet and gentle managed to go from nurturing sleeping kids to spearing whales.

Max whistling from where he stood in the doorframe got Charles' attention and he tore his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Charles smiled and stood up, steadying himself before striding over to Max and taking his hand.

“Were you his nanny today?” Max teased as he led Charles down the hall of the inn.

“Yeah, he wanted to hear a story. I’m almost running out of things to tell him so I might have to start retelling some. I think he likes the story of Perseus and the sea monster the most,” Charles laughed. 

They made their way outside, and Charles let go of Max’s hand and hovered next to his shoulder while they casually stoide down the street. Max was still insistent that Charles get out and walk around in the open air each day. As much as it tired Charles out, he knew it was for his better health.

People milled about the port city. Charles and Max looked at the different shops and stands that lined the street. Most of them were general stores or business warehouses, with plenty of ladies fashion shops mixed in, and Charles was delighted to see a bookstore.

“I would like to stop in there before we leave. Some new reading material would be nice, and I’m sure Lando would appreciate it if I had some new entertainment to tell him,” Charles quipped as they passed by.

“You’re so cute when you go all mother-like over that kid,” Max sighed with a wink, nudging Charles with his elbow, “granted, you’re always cute.”

Charles felt his cheeks flush pink and looked away, pretending to be interested in something hanging in the next building’s window. Despite them having been together for multiple months, Max’s compliments and frequent fawning over him never failed to make Charles feel flustered. 

They walked through the town, wandering down to walk away from the docks and towards the open beach. There were few people there, and after a few minutes they found themselves alone on the sandy dunes. Charles began to struggle to keep up with Max; it was the farthest he had walked since his injury and he was short of breath and eventually stopped, leaning over with his hands on his knees.

“Where are we going? I don’t know if I can keep walking for much longer,” Charles panted, watching Max turn around.

“Nowhere. I just wanted to get away from people for a bit. Let’s sit down, you look worn out,” Max sat down in the sand and looked up expectantly at Charles.

Charles lowered himself down onto the sand and sat next to Max, shuffling close to him and reaching out to take his hand again. Alone on the beach, he wasn’t afraid to hold Max’s hand or lay his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and they sat in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the waves crashing into the sand.

The powerful ocean peacefully lapping at the shore sounded different than waves hitting the side of a wooden ship, Charles had come to learn. It was a much quicker and abrupt noise when the water was slapping against the ship, whereas it was gradual and undulating when the waves were freely breaking upon the sand. 

“We should get married,” Max broke the silence with a determined tone.

Charles sat up straight and raised an eyebrow, a bit confused about what Max was going on about. "I don't mean to rain on your parade, but we're both men. The world isn't too kind about two men getting married at the moment," Charles said with a chuckle. The thought of being married to Max sounded nice, but he knew it wasn't something that they could realistically achieve.

"So? Who says we can't get married? Who gets to decide who can marry and who can't?" Max said with an easy shrug. He gently stroked the back of Charles' hand with his thumb.

Charles wasn't sure how to answer at first and he looked at Max with a curious smile for a moment. "I guess technically the church. Marriage between two men isn't allowed, it's not God's will and all that shit," Charles muttered. He took a deep breath and stared intently out at the water. The unfairness of the world was absolutely nothing new to him, yet he found himself frustrated by it once more.

"Well god hasn't met my will," Max murmured, and he put a hand on Charles' chin and turned his face to look him directly in the eye. The genuinely emotional look in Max's eyes stirred something within Charles. He could tell that the Dutchman was being serious, and it made Charles fall in love with him all over again.

"Alright, well how will we get married then? And where?" Charles asked him, leaning into his touch and getting lost in his gaze.

"We'll just get married right here on this beach. Just the two of us. What makes it any less real than a man and woman getting married in a church, huh? I love you, I want to marry you, so I will. I don't care what the church or any god or the world says. I only care about the man in front of me," Max whispered, leaning his forehead against Charles', "if loving you isn't divine and holy, then I don't know what is."

His words made Charles shiver, resonating deep within him and nearly moving him to tears. Charles closed his eyes and shakily brought a hand up to hold Max's cheek, breathing in the same air as him and tracing his finger over Max's lips. All he was aware of was Max, who tilted his head and pressed their lips together. Charles relaxed into the kiss, savouring the taste of Max's lips.

"You make it sound so perfect," Charles breathed out. He opened his eyes and pulled away, breaking out into a dreamy smile, "I would love to marry you, right here and now."

"Then let's do it," Max hummed. He shifted to sit on his knees in the sand, and Charles automatically did the same. Max reached out for Charles' hands and the Monegasque placed his hands in his outstretched palms. His hands were warm and comforting, and Charles couldn't possibly think of a better feeling than Max holding his hands in that moment.

"Do you take me as your husband?" Max asked him in a gentle tone. 

Charles nodded and said, "yes, I do. Do you take me as your wife?" 

The moment the words left his mouth he knew he had said the wrong thing, but he found that he didn't quite care too much. Max's lips curled up into a smile and he had to stifle a laugh before answering, "yes, I do."

Max reached into his coat pocket and dug around for a moment. He pulled his hand back out and unfurled his fist to reveal two simple bronze rings. They weren't the most spectacular or fancy looking rings to ever exist, although Charles was perfectly happy with them nonetheless. There was nothing too orthodox about a makeshift wedding on the beach anyways.

"Where the hell did you get that from?" Charles gasped, watching as Max slid one onto his hand and one onto himself. Charles was mesmerized by the little band, bringing his hand up closer to inspect it and appreciate how it looked on himself.

"Traded sperm whale's teeth for them in the market near the docks. I figured if we were going to be married, we could at least adhere to the rings tradition," Max explained, taking Charles' hand and linking their fingers together. 

Charles leaned forward to kiss him again, wrapping his other arm around Max's shoulders and pushing himself into his lap. Max ran a hand through his hair and leaned back into the sand, letting Charles sit comfortably in his lap as they kissed. The afternoon sun looked down upon them, and Max eventually gently pushed Charles off his lap and stood up, extending a hand and helping Charles off the ground.

"Well then, my little _wife,_ I think we should be heading back. You'll need to rest and I'll need to get back to moving barrels of spermaceti," Max chuckled as he brushed the sand off of his back and legs.

Charles blushed and followed Max, pretending not to notice Max bringing up what he had accidentally said. Surprisingly, Charles found that he was alright with Max calling him his wife. It was cute, although he wouldn't admit it out loud. He looked fondly down at the old ring on his finger. It was nothing too expensive looking and nothing worth bragging about, but Charles absolutely loved it and knew he would wear it every day.

* * *

A dull soreness settled into Charles' legs when he sat down on the bed upon getting back. He drifted off into a light sleep and wasn't sure how much time had gone by when he was woken up by Max tapping his shoulder. Charles groggily sat up, seeing Sebastian standing in the doorway of their room and momentarily forgetting that he had asked Lando about talking to the first mate.

"Hey, Vettel said he came to talk to you," Max said softly. Charles rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded, standing up and stretching out the stiffness in his back.

"Um, I'm gonna go grab a drink somewhere," Max pulled his coat on and shuffled out the door.

"Let's go outside, it's a bit stuffy in here," Sebastian said with a genial smile. Charles followed him out of the building and onto the porch, where there were a few chairs set outside for guests. 

Charles figured he must have slept for a while, for it was already dark out when they stepped out of the inn and onto the porch. It was still warm and humid outside and there were pesky mosquitos flying about. They occasionally darted at Charles skin, and the Monegasque made a face and slapped them off of himself. The last thing he needed was uncomfortable insect bites, or worse, malaria.

Sebastian sat down and motioned for Charles to do the same. "Lando said you wanted to talk to me?" the German began with a curious tone. Charles sat down stiffly and worried his lip between his teeth, now dawning on him that he didn't know how to start the conversation.

"I guess I should preface this with saying that I know I have no business prying into the lives of those above me, especially when I am a newcomer to this industry and I have barely proven my worth. Please forgive me for asking about things that do not concern me, but my curiosity has gotten the better of me. It always has, I went to college because I was curious about the world, I dropped out and took a job on the ship because I was curious about the sea, and now I am about to ask you some quite rude questions because I am curious about something," Charles rambled on, not sure if he was trying to justify his reasoning to himself or to Sebastian, who looked quirked an eyebrow. 

"I can do only my best to answer. Spit it out then, Charles," Sebastian mused. He crossed his arms and leaned back, eyeing Charles a bit warily. Charles felt like he couldn't remember how to breathe and had to take a few seconds to feel capable of human interaction.

"What is Kimi hiding?" Charles blurted out in a desperate tone, "he's the captain of the whole entire ship and we _never_ see the man. He's always hidden away and says almost nothing when he does have to address the crew, and he always seems to be looking around so nervously. People who aren't hiding something don't do that, they don't hole themselves up and act like they're on the run from something." 

Voicing his curiosities aloud was like a weight lifted off of his shoulders. Every time he saw the Finnish captain, Charles always noticed the man's uncomfortable glares and nervous tendencies. Perhaps it was just his nosy nature, but Charles had been dying to know what made him hide away from everyone, what made him abandon half his duties as captain and lurk below deck for days on end. Max had wondered too, though he didn't seem to fixate on the curiosity as much as Charles did.

Sebastian let out a long exhale and closed his eyes for a second, rubbing the bridge of his nose and looking tired. He held his head in his hands for a few seconds before sitting up again and beckoning for Charles to come closer. 

"I knew this would happen someday, that someone would be just a bit too observant and a bit too curious. Secrets always seem to work their way to the surface," Sebastian murmured. He gave Charles a weary smile and continued, "you are right that you are a bit out of line to be asking the first mate about the secrets of the captain as a simple sailor, but I think it would just make things worse if I didn't tell you the truth. This is a bit of a long story, so please just bear with me."

Charles nodded and folded his hands, his heart racing and the desire to hear what would come next burning in his chest.

"I met Kimi when I first started working on ships. Like you, I was new to the sea and he was a harpooner on the ship. He was so..interesting to me and I loved getting him to pay attention to me even though he never seemed interested in talking to people. But we just grew closer and closer and we became this little team, wherever he went, I went too, and he worked his way up from being a harpooner to being a mate, and he was promoted to captain just a few years ago. Obviously I made my way through the crew's ranks too, and he promoted me to first mate after becoming captain," Sebastian explained in a quiet, easy tone.

The younger man listened intently and waited for him to continue. Sebastian seemed to be fighting an internal battle with himself, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't figure out how to say it.

"We have loved each other since the first year we met. The _honor and glory_ of whaling isn't what's kept me aboard whaling ships, Kimi is. I trust you enough to tell you all of this because I know you are like me, kid. I know you love Max," Sebastian let out, his voice breaking as he looked down at the floorboards, "and we've spent years being together but having to hide it, and being at sea has been the best way to do so. Kimi's tired of living like this, he's never been one to put up with the world's bullshit for long."

Charles tried his best not to looked shocked and ultimately couldn't stop his jaw from unhinging and widening his eyes. He briefly recalled Daniel saying that it wouldn't be surprising if there were other people like him and Max on the ship, though he wouldn't have expected Seb and Kimi to be romantically involved. Charles nodded and hummed, taking a moment to process the information.

"Is that why he hides away from everyone?" Charles interjected.

"Partially. Like I said, he's sick of living like this; he doesn't want to be on the run just so we can be safely together. Honestly, I am too. I would love to just...retire from this god awful industry and settle down with the man I love in some quiet little place in Germany where we can live out our lives together," Sebastian struggled, "we don't get that poetic ending. Nobody does. There is pain in our story and it will not end poetically."

Charles could hear the pain in his voice and instinctively reached out to put a hand on Seb's shoulder. The man looked much older and worn out than he normally did, as if the years of heartache and loving someone in secret was weighing heavily on him. For the first time since Charles had known him, the confident and assured look of leadership on Sebastian's face had slipped and he seemed so much more vulnerable than before. 

"Kimi wants out of this life of hiding. He's talked about running away or getting left behind at the dock somewhere on purpose, or even faking death somehow. He's a smart man but I'm so scared that he'll make a stupid decision. I just don't know what to do, I don't want to keep living life on the run and I don't want to try and pretend we could have a life together on land. Hell, we both have _wives_ ," Sebastian concluded, staring firmly out at the night sky.

Charles felt bad for asking and making the man clearly relate a painful tale to him. Still, he was glad, and saddened, to hear the story of the ships demure captain, and he wished there was something he could have done or said to help Sebastian.

"I'm so sorry," Charles breathed out, "what are you going to do when this voyage ends?"

"I don't know. As of right now, there's no clear path for us. I'm hoping that Kimi doesn't make any rash decisions and I can figure something out," Sebastian sighed. He sat up and gave put his hand over Charles', squeezing it and adding, "let me give you some advice, Charles. Don't make the same mistakes Kimi and I did. Love Max as you do, and don't get married to a woman who deserves better because you are in denial that you love a man. The world is an unkind place, and I know it will change someday, and until then it is all we can do to live our lives as genuinely as we can."

His words were humbling to Charles, who solemnly stood up and pulled Sebastian up and into an embrace. The German gripped his shoulders and Charles felt much closer to him than before.

"Thank you for being honest with me. I won't tell a soul," Charles swore in a heartfelt tone.

He stood quietly with Sebastian on the deck for a few more minutes, waiting until the first mate seemed to have composed himself. Charles slowly walked back to his and Max's room, mulling over everything that Sebastian had told him. It made him feel small and helpless to know that there was very little he could do to ease the first mate's pain and offer a solution to the problems that plagued him and Kimi.

Charles found the room empty when he slipped through the door, with Max still being out for the night. He yawned and began to pull his clothes off, figuring he should sleep in night clothes instead of falling asleep in the nude again. The soft linen of his nightshirt was comfortable on his skin, and Charles was lazily brushing his hair when Max came through the door with something in his hand.

The Dutchman shrugged his coat off, kicked his boots away, and thrust a book into Charles' hands before beginning to change into nightwear too. Charles gave him a puzzled glance and looked down at the book. It was the Travels of Marco Polo, something Charles had heard of but never read before. It was the kind of thing that intrigued him and he broke out into a smile as he set the book on the dresser and wrapped his arms around Max.

"Did you get that for me?' Charles asked, kissing the tip of Max's nose and briefly forgetting about his worries. He felt Max lay a hand gently on his lower back and lightly pat his bottom, making Charles giggle in a way that would have embarrassed him in public.

"Yes I did. I remembered you mentioned wanting some new reading material," Max answered, kissing his cheeks.

"You're the best, I love you so much," Charles purred, and he let Max guide them over to the bed.

"I love you too, little wife. Now how about we get to the best part of a wedding night?" Max asked with a grin.

"And what would that be?"

"Consummation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie them getting 'married' was inspired by the beginning of moby dick where Ishmael and queequeg get married lol, I just had to include max going so far as to get wedding rings sjsjsj 🙈🙈❤️
> 
> ended this one with the illusion to sexytime because that's what I do best teehee


	9. A Squall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaah I still haven't finished my art for this fic...oh well, it'll get done when it gets done sjsjsj
> 
> anyways, I have such little time to work on fics now that classes have started for me, and I absolutely love this funny little whaler fic of mine so I'm updating it rn instead of working on other pics that people have asked me to write 👉👈🥺
> 
> I legit do not remember if I said how far into the voyage they were in an earlier chapter and im NOT about to go back and check so if the timeline doesn't line up, im so sorry sjsjhdhs 💀
> 
> if you don't know what a squall is, it's explained in the chapter 🕺

Charles was admittedly a little reluctant to get back on the ship and set sail again. Their port stop in Uruguay had been a nice break from the sea, and he personally had enjoyed sleeping in a real bed and getting to bathe in a tub of hot water, not sponging himself off with salty water. 

Unfortunately he wasn't getting paid to take breaks in port towns, and the crew packed up again and boarded the ship after their few days on shore. Charles had recovered quite well over the few days; he was feeling much more like himself when he followed his shipmates back onto the planks of their ship. It would take him a few weeks to fully ease himself back into the full amount of work he normally took on around the ship, including the hassle of rowing the whaleboats.

Eventually, all that remained of Charles' injury was the scar tissue and the lurking memories in his head. Getting back to work helped him feel normal again, and he felt a surprising sense of clarity when he was back to helping slice up whale blubber again. The aches and pains of the whaling process weren't exactly fun, but it gave them all something to do and a paycheck.

The crew sailed on from South America, crossing diagonally through the Atlantic and passing by St. Helena. As they sailed to round the southern tip of Africa, their voyage surpassed the year-long mark. One whole year at sea and gone by; they had chased down quite a few whales, filled many barrels of oil, and spent many hours watching the ocean's horizon and waiting to spot a whale.

Much of the time was still spent waiting and doing busywork, and Charles found himself reflecting on his full year at sea. It was one year since he had made the brash decision to drop out of college and disappear to the sea, meaning that it also marked one year of his family wondering where he was. Sometimes he felt bad for leaving without a trace, and Charles especially felt guilty about leaving his brothers to wonder if he was dead or alive. 

Charles never truly regretted his decision though. Whaling was hard work and it was by far not the most glamorous occupation. The labor was intensive and exhausting, the smell of whales blood sometimes lingered for days, and the hours of waiting and trying not to lose his mind from being surrounded by the vast nothingness of the sea got to his head sometimes.

But despite the rougher way of life he had grown to be a part of, Charles got exactly what he wanted: new experiences and a fresh perspective. He had learned much more about the world in a year at sea than he had at college, and he had gained the most valuable treasure in the form of Max.

Charles had never guessed that a year later, he would be lovingly devoted to the fierce man who held him at knifepoint the first time they met. When he woke up in the early mornings, Charles looked over at Max's sleeping figure next to him and nuzzled his nose against the Dutchman's cheek until he woke up. He always wore the ring Max, his _husband_ since the day on the beach, had given him and Charles was sure to tuck it in his innermost pockets when they were chasing down or processing a whale. Max affectionately called Charles his little wife, never forgetting the way Charles had absentmindedly blurted it out, and the warm feeling of the harpooner's arm wrapped securely around him at night kept Charles sane on days where he got sick of staring at the endless flow of waves.

As they sailed around the southern tip of Africa, the weather was warm, but not as hot as it was when they were in South America. Charles found it much more bearable to spend the days and evenings outside when they weren't busy with whales. It was on such a warm, late evening that Charles lingered out on the deck when Max began to wander to the forecastle and seemingly expected him to follow.

"Come to bed, Charles," Max looked over his shoulder, stifling a yawn. The sun had already taken its bows for the day and the moon illuminated the calm waters, meaning that the majority of their shipmates were turning in for the night with few remaining outside.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," Charles said with a soft smile. He watched Max shrug and continue into their quarters to go to sleep. 

Charles then slid up beside Sebastian, who was leaning against the side railing of the ship and looking down into the waters below. It was rare that the first mate stayed out once the crew was settling in for the day, and the far off look on his face got Charles wondering what Seb was lost in his thoughts about. Ever since he had told him about the complicated relationship between himself and Kimi, Charles had felt a new closeness to Seb that he didn't before. 

"Staring down into the mysterious fathoms sometimes makes things seem easier, yeah?" Charles mused, leaning against the railing with his arms folded. 

The older man glanced over at him, looking tired and as though he was irritated. Seb nodded and gave Charles his best efforts at a polite smile, proceeding to rub his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"I suppose it does, kid. Might not fix anything but it does lull you to calmness," Sebastian murmured. 

"Is everything okay?" Charles quietly asked. He was hoping that Sebastian would talk to him as he had before, even though he knew that his superior was under no obligation to keep telling a lowly crewman about his life issues.

"Well, it's been unusually long since we've seen whales, so in terms of business, we're in a slow spot," Sebastian explained. Charles nodded; they had spent unusually long waiting to see the sight of a whale's flukes breaching the surface of the water again. The crew were starting to get a bit restless as they went through days of busying themselves with domestic tasks and coming up with more things to do when every surface had been polished as clean as it could get.

"I take it that's not what you were asking about though. Kimi and I are both...uncertain. We argue a lot about what to do when this voyage ends, and I spend about as much time being mad at him as I do being mad at myself. He's putting Lando to bed right now, we got into another argument before dinner today and I'm admittedly avoiding having to talk to him right now," Sebastian confessed in a stressed tone. His worried look once again came over his face and Charles could tell that his mind was racing.

Charles patted his shoulder and tried to think of something helpful to say. In his view, Seb was a fatherly authority figure, someone who everyone looked to guidance for and always seemed to have the answers. To hear him say that he didn't know what to do or what was going to happen made Charles feel like there was nothing he could say that would help.

"I'm sorry," was all Charles could offer at first, "I wish there was something more I could say or do to help you and him."

"I wish there was something I could do too. It seems like I spend a lot of my time either trying to talk sense into Kimi or wondering if I'm the one who needs to hear some sense," Sebastian continued, looking up at the starry sky above them.

"Talking enough sense can make you lose your mind," Charles mused. He was going to say more when there was the sound of slow, hesitant footfalls behind them on the deck, and Charles looked over his shoulder to see the caption in question standing there awkwardly with his hands folded. "I think it's time for me to go to bed now," Charles murmured, nodding politely to Kimi and stepping away to leave them in peace.

He ducked into the forecastle and peeked out, watching as the Finn approached Seb and began to quietly talk to him. Charles held his breath and his curiosity and desire to know what happened next between them outweighed the voice in his head telling him that it was rude to spy on his captain and first mate. Seb delicately put a hand on Kimi's shoulder and pulled him into a hug, and when Charles saw them kiss, he blinked and turned to go to change into his nightclothes.

A few minutes later, Charles quietly padded over to slip into bed beside Max. The harpooner was still awake but on the verge of falling asleep, and he blindly reached out for Charles with a sleepy smile. Charles relaxed into his hold and pulled the blankets over them, nuzzling his face into Max's chest and breathing in the comforting scent of him. He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around Max's waist. 

Max let out a content sigh and Charles leaned up to press their lips together in a kiss, and a moment later he felt Max run a hand through his hair. Charles let his stress and worries slip away momentarily as he kissed Max slowly, and when they parted, Max pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was just enough to lull him to sleep, curled up protectively in Max's arms and at serene peace for a few hours.

* * *

The next day brought the same inaction as the previous: the crew sat around waiting to find whales, and there was none in sight. Kevin sat at his usual post and kept his eyes locked on the sea, but there were no whales to be seen and thus it was another boring day for the whole of the ship.

Charles wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked up at the blazing sun above them as he sat on deck and folded his sleeves up. Beside him sat Max, who whittled away at a piece of whalebone. Charles leaned against the Dutchman's shoulder and watched him attempt to carve a picture onto the pearly white substance.

"It's so hot out today," Charles muttered. He almost wished they'd spot a whale so he could feel the cold seawater lap at his skin while they chased the animal. It was hotter than usual and Charles scanned the sky to see if there was any clouds in sight to provide them with some relief.

"I know, I'm sweating through my clothes," Max complained, "although I don't like the looks of those clouds over there either."

Charles looked to where he nodded. Sure enough, there was a large, dark billowing of clouds that looked more threatening than it did promising. They were hoping for a few clouds to shade them as they bore through another day of sitting around, but it looked instead like they were going to potentially endure a storm, or at least an unpleasant shower.

"Hey Danny, you think it'll rain?" Max asked to the second mate, who sat a few paces away on the floor with a map spread out in front of him. Daniel looked up from the map and over to the dark gathering of clouds.

"I'll be damned if it doesn't rain, I'd say it looks like we're in for a squall," the Australian said with a raised eyebrow. He and Max passed a knowing look between them, and suddenly Charles felt very much like he was missing something. 

"What's a squall?" Charles questioned apprehensively. 

"It's a storm, but way worse than anything you've ever seen. Think 'watery hellhole' with winds strong enough to blow your socks off. Trust me, we don't want to get caught up in a squall," Daniel explained with a chuckle, "I'm sure the captain will have us try to skirt around it."

"Oh," Charles gulped, " _oh_." He shuddered and hoped Daniel was either wrong about the weather or he was right that they would steer clear of it. 

Charles kept his eyes on the dark formation of clouds as he leaned against Max, who seemed less than concerned about it and more focused on his craft. They carried on for a few more hours as such, with the crew sitting around on the decks and waiting for the day to end. The seemingly empty seas carried the ship further along and the winds began to pick up, biting at Charles' cheeks and stirring up his worries.

"Daniel," Sebastian called, approaching the second mate seated near Max and Charles, "are we still on our original route?"

Daniel looked up from the map in front of him, beckoning Seb to look at it. "Yeah, we're making good progress in rounding Africa. We'll cut through the Indian Ocean just like we planned and then on to the strait of Malacca it is," he said, pointing on the map to their approximate location, "unless you're coming over here to tell me to reroute?"

"The captain hasn't given any orders to reroute yet, but I wanted to ask you about it. If we do have to try to change courses to avoid bad weather, what choices would we have?" Sebastian asked. He knelt down on the wooden floorboards and peered over Daniel's shoulder at the map of the hemisphere they were sailing into.

Daniel looked deep in thought for a second before responding, "well, we could veer westward to try and get around it, but we might end up rather close to the coastline, and that might not get us out of trouble since we don't know how far those clouds extend to the west."

"And if we steer eastward?" Sebastian questioned.

"That would be our best bet for avoiding a squall. If we change direction now, we should be able to steer clear of the storm without straying too far from our original path. We're already on the edge of those clouds already, so it wouldn't be too hard to do that," Daniel answered with an easy shrug of the shoulders. He seemed confident enough that they could safely bypass the bad weather, and Charles assumed that was the end of the debate about what they should do.

They had sailed through rain before, and although sitting out in the soaking rain was miserable, they had yet to encounter weather bad enough to warrant trying to avoid it, and Charles was getting worried about what a so-called squall would be like if they didn't try to reroute to avoid it.

"Great, I'll ask Kimi about pursuing one of those plans," Sebastian stood up and was going to make his way below deck to the captain's quarters, only to find Kimi already on deck and striding toward them.

Daniel stood up too, gathering up his maps and preparing to show Kimi the routes that they had just been discussing. Max put his pocket knife back in his pocket along with the bone fragment he had been attempting to be artistic with, and Charles turned his head to hide his face against Max's shoulder, closing his eyes for a second to save them from the drying, biting winds which seemed to get ever stronger.

"We're not rerouting, Seb, we'll lose too much time. We'll hold this course and push through the weather," Kimi decided in his usual quiet yet determined tone. Sebastian stood there with an incredulous look on his face for a brief second before finding the words to protest with.

"But we need to shorten our sails and steer to avoid it, that's a rough looking storm and we can't risk the damage it might cause. Ultimately it's your call, but I'm begging you to reroute," Sebastian argued with him, and Charles looked to Max to see how to react. The Dutchman seemed irritated, and Charles kept looking between him, Daniel, and the first mate and captain. 

"If we do that, then we'll lose nearly a day's time. We can handle a little wind," Kimi reaffirmed his order with a stern look at Seb, reminding him that as captain, Kimi was still ranked above him regardless of their love for one another.

As heavy raindrops began to fall, Sebastian muttered something under his breath but went along with the orders to maintain their course. Daniel rolled up his map and briefly disappeared to put it away and keep it from getting wet. The entirety of the crew on the deck began to come alive and move as the rain began to pour down onto them.

Charles stood up when Max did and looked up at the sky. Almost in the blink of an eye, they were beneath dark, nearly black clouds which blocked out the sun and made it look much later than it really was. The sight of the intimidating storm they were sailing directly into and the cold rain now streaming down his back sent a shiver down Charles' spine.

"What do we do? Have you ever been caught in a squall before?" Charles nervously gulped, squeezing Max's arm.

"Oh yeah, they get pretty nasty, although most of the time they at least don't last too long. Just do what Sebastian tells you to do, and hold onto something when the waves get rough," Max muttered as he rolled his sleeves up. 

Charles looked around in confusion when Max left his side, the harpooner seemingly knowing what to do without even being told to. He looked to Sebastian, who was in the middle of the deck and beginning to shout orders that he clearly wished he didn't have to give. Kimi had darted away to steer the ship, leaving his first mate to take over and give the orders to get them though the storm.

"We need to get those sails down!" Sebastian yelled, jogging over to where Lando sat on a crate with a wide eyed expression on his face, "Lando, I need you to get below deck and go find the cook. Stay in his room until I come to get you."

The boy nodded fearfully and scrambled down below deck. Charles shook his head to try to clear his mind and stepped into action with the rest of them. He rushed over to Kevin, who shoved a rope into his hands before beginning to climb up the rigging with Checo to begin removing the sails.

Charles clutched the rope to keep the rigging steady and braced himself with each large, increasingly rough wave that jostled the ship. The rain was beginning to become blinding, falling in thick sheets that limited Charles' visibility. He couldn't see the rest of the crew as much as he could hear them; all around him men were rushing around to help get the sails down and secure the ship in any other way possible. Sebastian continued to shout orders and ran around himself, and Charles could hear Checo and Kevin trying to help one another undo the sails without losing their grip on the wooden masts.

"Hold on!" someone hollered, and Charles turned his head just in time to see the largest wave they'd encountered yet barreling into the side of the ship. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the rope so tightly that he could feel it cutting into his hands, but he didn't care, for it was the only thing keeping him from being swept away as the ship violently lurched to the side and the wave drenched all on deck. One moment there was solid planks of wood underneath Charles' feet, and the next, there was nothing and he was holding on for dear life until the ship righted itself and was upright again.

"Damnit, forget the sails, it's too late!" Sebastian shouted over the rushing winds. His frantic tone conveyed the emotions of the whole crew as they were left to simply hold onto whatever was nearest to them and brace themselves for the monstrous waves that rocked the ship and nearly threw it onto it's side.

Charles clung to the rope of the rigging and grimaced with each wave that hit, the water smacking against him and forcing him to grip tighter to avoid being washed overboard. He couldn't see Kevin or Checo and could only hope that they had gotten down from the sails or were still up there, holding onto the masts.

As the rain continued to soak them and the ship, the large waves also rushed onto the deck and made it difficult to stay balanced with the movements of the ship. Charles held his breath and ducked his head when he saw another sheet of seawater rushing towards them, taller than the ship itself. When it hit, the ship creaked and was pushed onto its side, and Charles thought it was over for them as he felt the wave pummeling against him.

He was luckily proved wrong when the ship was able to balance upright again once the water had hit it. There was no time for Charles to take a breath of relief though, for there was another loud, sharp creaking sound and a sharp snap, and he was tackled to the ground by someone just in time to avoid being hit by one of the whaleboats that had been secured to the side of the ship. It had come loose and was thrown across the ship by the violent waves and wind, but it was still tied to the ship and dragged the ship onto its side once more as it dangled in the waters.

Charles felt fear rush through him again as whoever had tackled him lay on top of him and crouched for cover. If they couldn't get the ship upright due to the whaleboat tipping it dangerously sideways, then he didn't know how they were supposed to get through the rest of the squall.

He felt the man on top of him press a knife into his hand, and Charles recognized that it was Max who had shoved him to the ground and was now pinning him down. Max was saying something to him, but Charles couldn't hear him over the wind and rain.

"What?!" Charles cried out, gripping the knife the harpooner had given him.

"You need to cut the rope that's keeping the whaleboat attached to the ship, it's the only way to get the ship upright again," Max firmly instructed him, pointing to the rope that was pulled taught just a few inches away from them.

Charles stretched his arm out as far as he could, having to crawl forward on the ground a few paces to reach it, and frantically began sawing away at the rope with Max's knife. He was weary and tried his best to push through his weakness until he cut all the way through the rope, and the offending whaleboat was freed from the ship and quickly disappeared into the sea.

It took a few harrowing seconds for the ship to get fully upright again. The waves became smaller and less forceful, the rain began to lessen, and a few minutes later, they saw the sun once again as they sailed out from beneath the dark clouds and into calm waters again.

Charles shakily stood up, clinging to Max like he had clung to the rigging to stay alive. He was relieved to look around and see the other crewman looking just as haggard as he did but alive nonetheless. Daniel had held onto the railing of the stairs that led up to the upper deck, Valtteri to the ropes of the rigging like he had, and poor Kevin and Checo had been stuck up on the masts of the ship, which they now carefully climbed down from. Kimi had fared by gripling the base of the wheel, and Seb was untangling himself from the lines that held the whaleboats to the ship. 

Others had done their best to hold onto the ships railing and other parts of the rigging.

“Alright. Let’s assess the damage,” Kimi muttered, stepping down from the upper deck. 

Everyone assembled and they found that there were fortunately no casualties, although Charles had been convinced that he was a goner once or twice. 

In terms of structural damage, the loss of one of the whaleboats was the most noticeable. Kevin reported that parts of the mast were considerably weakened too, which thankfully hadn’t broken off and could be repaired. 

Everything was completely soaked, to nobody’s surprise. The wood of the ship, the interior of the forecastle, the men themselves and their clothes, everything was absolutely drenched in seawater and rainwater. Charles stood there shivering in the evening sun as they all gathered on deck to make sure everyone was alright. He had never felt so utterly soaked before and water dripped from all of them.

Sebastian ducked below deck to find Lando. The young boy looked terrified when he emerged with the first mate, and Charles watched Sebastian pick Lando up and kiss his forehead, rubbing his back and talking to him to try and calm him down.

The sound of Max’s voice pulled Charles from his thoughts and grounded him in reality once more.

“Hey, you’re shaking. Just breathe, we’re in the clear now,” Max reassured him, pulling him into a sopping wet hug after taking his knife back.

Charles didn’t care about the fact that they were entirely wet and practically threw himself into Max’s arms. He gripped the material of his shirt and nuzzled his face into Max’s neck, tears adding to the water on his face. The ship was now steadily moving through the calm waters once again, but Charles was still shaken up from the terrifying ordeal of trying to stay aboard when the ship was tossed around by the waves and having to cut away the whale boat.

“You saved my life,” Charles choked out. He cupped Max’s cheek and gazed into his eyes, pressing kisses to his cheeks and softly sobbing.

“I couldn’t bear to lose you,” Max murmured. He affectionately rubbed Charles’ lower back and pulled him into a gentle kiss.

Charles melted into it and let the sensation overwhelm him for a few much needed seconds. When they parted, he was about to say a word of thanks when he became aware of a burning pain in his hands. Charles quickly let go of Max and took a few steps back, letting out a cry of pain.

“Are you hurt?” Max asked, taking his hands and looking at his palms.

Red blistering covered the expanse of Charles’ palms and fingers. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it was still stinging painfully and there was bloodstains on his skin.

“I had to hold onto a rope to keep from being washed away,” Charles winced. 

Max said no more and took him to the forecastle, making him sit on their damp bed while he went to see if their medical supplies had been ruined or not. A few minutes later, he returned with bandages in hand, the materials below deck luckily not being too badly soaked. 

“What about you? Are you alright?” Charles sniffled as Max began to carefully bandage up his hands while they sat on the bed together.

Max finished up with his left hand and tucked the edge of the bandage up tightly, placing a kiss on Charles’ bandages hand and getting a blush out of him.

“I’ll be a little bruised and sore tomorrow, heck we all will, but I’m fine other than that,” Max said as he began to fix up Charles’ right hand, “your delicate little hands fared worse than I did, I’m afraid.”

It was beyond uncomfortable for them to get into bed that night. The mattresses, wooden frames, and sheets were all damp from the storm, and their nightclothes would have gotten wet too. Thus, the crew had to strip down to their innermost layers of undergarments to try to sleep without as much wet fabric sticking to them.

Charles found that he was too tired to care though, and he fell asleep easily despite the cold, slightly wet sheets, the feeling of Max’s hand gently rubbing the bare skin of his back outweighing the discomforts.

He had survived a squall; he could survive sleeping on a wet bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize if there’s any stupid typos/words that don’t sound like they belong, i was too tired to proofread most of this because it’s 12:41 am for me as i’m finishing writing this, and i typed some of it on my phone which has an incredibly irritating autocorrect habit :’)
> 
> a squall is honestly pretty bad to handle on land but at sea? i can only imagine it’s a whole other story 💀 sailors really did just have to hold on sometimes


	10. Over a Barrel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my emotional support fic thank you very much :o)
> 
> I have a lil portrait of whaler max and sharl that I've started as well as a drawing where Charles is reading a book and sitting in max's lap?? but my lazy/busy ass hasn't finished either yet 😭😭
> 
> without further adieu though, here's ur dose of gay little whalers ❤️🥺 max gives Charles a bath like he's a toddler because why the hell not and they do sexy kissy kissy time but they do not get to do the whole sexy time hehe

To the relief of the whole crew, they were greeted by the sight of whale's flukes in the distance just a few days after being nearly blown away by a squall. The lot of them were like a coiled spring that had been restrained, waiting to act and let out energy. When Seb called for them to prepare to go fishing, the crew sprang into action instantly.

There was the issue of the whaleboat that had been lost during the squall. It was common for commercial vessels to have an extra boat asides from the four they normally used when whaling, so it wasn't a loss that would slow down productivity. Still, it was less than ideal to have _lost_ an entire boat rather than having one simply get damaged. They would have to be careful and fare without the extra until they docked for long enough to get one made.

Charles fell into his usual role of one of Daniel and Max's oarsmen. It was routine of him at that point to fall in behind the second mate and his harpooner, and that’s what he did once more on that particular day.

What wasn’t usual was the sharp, stinging pain he felt in his hands when he clutched the oars when they were lowered into the water.

Gasping, Charles instantly let go of the oars and looked at his hands. He was greeted with the sight of bandages still covering his palms. The painful burning he had sustained from gripping a rope in the storm was still not entirely healed, and Charles hadn’t thought to stay back on the ship for once. He felt his lower lip trembling from the piercing sensation he felt.

The other three oarsmen were looking at him like he had grown a tail, and so Charles tried to swallow his sense of self preservation and gripped the oars and threw his weight into rowing. All he could do was try to hold his cries back and put up with the stinging of agitated rope burn and the dull ache in his arms that came with rowing. As they tagged along with the other whaleboats to follow the pod of whales, Charles cursed under his breath and hoped that they would get the deed done quickly. 

It took the better part of an hour to catch up to the group of whales they were tracking. The slow-moving animals didn’t even seem to notice them at first.

Charles sometimes wondered if they noticed the boats at all or were taken by surprise when they were harpooned. He knew it was a bit dumb for a sailor to be questioning the intelligence of whales, but his curious mind never seemed to be able to put a cap on his wonders. 

Some relief came to Charles’ poor, sore hands when they stopped rowing to let some of the others have a clear shot at one of the sperm whales. The bandages over his palms were soaked with seawater and Charles winced at the feeling of the salt stinging harshly into his tender skin. He felt tired, he just wanted to go to sleep, and the pain in his hands throbbed unbearably.

Further away, Valtteri threw the harpoon over his shoulder and hooked the largest whale of the group. The Finn ducked out of the way while Seb made sure that the line was secured tightly. In the murky water, the whale began to thrash about as they always did and pulled the boat along with it, and Charles was glad that for once, he wasn't the one being dragged around the sea. He was sure that he wouldn't have been able to hold on and would have found himself dumped in the sea for a second time.

As the rest of them sat and waited for the whale to wear itself out, Charles closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. His quiet few seconds of resting his eyes were interrupted by a loud puff of air next to him, and Charles jumped to the side and his eyes were open in an instant.

Peering over the side, he saw one of the other whales of the pod had surfaced right next to their little whaleboat. Hundreds of scars decorated the wrinkled gray skin that poked up through the water, and Charles could see that some of them seemed to stretch along the whales entire body. The pain in his hand was briefly forgotten as he studied the creature next to him.

The whale rolled onto its side and for the very first time, Charles got to see a whale's eye up close. He thought it was a bit funny that he was very familiar with the inside of whales from spending so much time handling their body parts, yet he had never seen a whale's eye before, especially not while it was still a living and breathing creature.

What was surprising to him was how small it was. For such large animals, it almost seemed odd that their eyes looked small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Charles had expected their eyes to be on the same scale as their impressively massive fins and tails. To him, it was like looking into the eye of a fellow man. There was a black pupil in the center, encased in an iris of swirling deep blue shades, finally the whites of the eyes that were beneath a gently sloping eyelid. 

A distinct kindness stared back at Charles, and he didn't even seem to be aware of what he was doing as he extended his hand over the side of the boat and brushed the back of his knuckles against the whale's skin. The animal lay there in the calm waters and let him curiously run his hand over its side. It studied him with the same curiosity that he had while staring at it, completely transfixed. 

In that brief moment, he wasn't a commercial whaler seeking to hunt the animal he was patting. He was just one being connecting with another, at the mercy of a creature far bigger and far more powerful than he was. It felt like Charles was being forgiven for his cruel profession as he stroked the back of his hand along the wet skin of the whale.

He was pulled back to reality by the sound of the piercing cry of the whale they were hunting as it tired and couldn't fight any longer. Charles blinked a few times and pulled his hand back into his lap, and the smaller whale slipped away from the edge of the boat. 

It didn't take long for Sebastian to stab the lance into the heart of the sperm whale and Charles' hands had to suffer once more. He couldn't stop himself from grimacing with every push and pull of the oars and the sharp pain of the wood splintering into his fingers. While they pulled the carcass back to the ship, Charles felt guilt eating at him.

The young sperm whale had let him touch it, had let him look directly into it's eye and connect with it. A whale, a creature not known to have the same capacity for compassion as people, had been kinder to him than most people were to others. It made him feel bad for aiding in the slaughter of that whale's family. He wondered if that was the whale's mother or father, and if they were leaving that poor creature as an orphan.

He did his best to push his wandering thoughts aside.

With his hands already irritated from the oars, Charles winced his way through slicing blubber with the others. His arms shook as he tried not to instinctively let go of the knife. Whale's blood seeped into the bandages wrapped around his rope burnt hands and Charles wasn't even aware of how much his discomfort was showing in his face until Seb came up to him with a concerned look on his face.

"Is something wrong, Charles?" Sebastian asked, kneeling down on the soaked deck beside him and putting a hand on his back, "you look like you're about to hurl."

"I still have rope burn on my hands...it just hurts really badly, I'm fine," Charles muttered. He hated feeling like he was being a hinderance to the crew; first he was out of commission for a few weeks after suffering a stab wound and now he was hoping that his palms would heal quickly so that he could work without pain.

"Have Max change the bandages later, kid, we're almost done for the night anyways,” Sebastian reassured him with an easy smile.

Charles just nodded and forced himself to look back at his work. Sebastian was correct, they finished cutting and putting different organic materials into casks and barrels soon after, and Charles was relieved. He stood up from kneeling on the deck. His back ached from being hunched over slabs of blubber for hours, his arms were sore from rowing, his hands were tender from the burns being irritated, and the sticky blood soaked into his clothes and his skin made him feel disgusting.

The thought of having to clean the deck the next day wasn’t exactly appealing either. Charles tried to tell himself that at least holding a wet cloth to clean with wouldn’t be as painful on his sore palms as gripping the wood of oars and knives.

“What’s this sad look on your face about?” Max approached him from behind and murmured in his ear. He kissed Charles’ cheek, careful to avoid the traces of blood from when Charles had wiped his face with his hand without thinking.

“Ah, my hands still hurt a lot,” Charles complained, turning his hands over to reveal the now filthied bandages.

Max took his hands into his own and carefully unwrapped the bandages to look at the tender skin of Charles’ palms.

“Let’s get cleaned up and redress it,” Max said, and he lead Charles to the bow of the ship and urged him to sit down. 

Charles did so unquestioningly, and Max kissed the top of his head before scampering away. Left on his own for a few minutes, Charles looked over the horizon at the falling sun. Soon enough, their bloodied deck would only be illuminated by the faint moonlight and the few oil lamps that they kept lit around the clock.

When Max returned, he had a few things in hand, namely a pail and clean bandages. What looked like clean clothes from his luggage was tucked under his arms, and Charles had never seen Max look more motherly before. The thought made him smile for the first time that day, though he figured he probably shouldn't tell Max about it; he might not like being called motherly.

Max wordlessly soaked a cloth in the pail of water and beckoned Charles to come closer.

"I can wash myself," Charles murmured with a blush as Max began to gently wipe his face clean. The cool water was relieving to his senses and he didn't make any move to protest, letting Max hold his chin steady and scrub the blood off of his skin.

"I know. I want to do this though," Max simply said. He wiped his face clean and rung the cloth dry, submerging it into the bucket once more. Max carefully undid the buttons of Charles' shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, pulling the stained garment off and setting it down.

Charles shivered as the cool evening air met his bare skin and he said, "I feel like a burden when people take care of me." He looked down and watched Max take the damp cloth again, and the Dutchman began to run it over Charles' chest and stomach too. It was cold, and Charles bit his lip to keep from shivering too much.

Max seemed deep in concentration as he shifted to stand behind Charles and washed his back and shoulders. Even though the semi-secluded bow of a ship on a cold night wasn't the ideal place to be bathed by his lover, Charles appreciated the fact that Max wanted to take the time to care for him. The way Max meticulously washed the bloodstains off his skin made Charles feel a warmth in his chest that helped him ignore the coldness of the water and the breeze.

"Well, I like taking care of you. You've changed me in a way, Charles. Before I met you, I would never have bothered to take care of anyone but myself. And here I am now, washing whale's blood off of you because I love you and it feels almost instinctual to do things like this," Max admitted, and Charles smiled when he saw the shy look on his face. Max's moments of vulnerability were rare, but when they were together, he seemed to relax and let down his guard.

"I love you too. You better let me take care of you someday in return, though," Charles said, brushing the back of his hand along Max's cheek.

When Max dropped the bloodied cloth back into the pail and tossed him the clean shirt, Charles shuddered and gladly pulled it on. The days were warm and the nights were cold as they sailed through the Indian Ocean, and Charles wasn't sure if the shirt he was given was his own or Max's, but he appreciated the warmth it provided.

Max had him pull his trousers off despite Charles' embarrassed protests. He carefully wiped Charles' legs and got him all cleaned up and dressed before taking a look at his hands again.

"Those ropes sure did a number on you. I'd hate to see those hands stay in pain any longer," Max murmured, and he ghosted his fingers over the irritation on Charles' palms. 

"Hopefully soon I'll be able to work, and more importantly hold your hand, without pain," Charles chirped back with a grin. He winced briefly as Max rubbed some burning substance onto his sore palms, and he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing while Max tightly wrapped clean bandages around his hands.

"You'll be fine soon," Max said as he gathered up Charles' bloodied clothes to stash them away with the rest of the laundry, "go get in bed, I'll be there in a moment."

Charles nodded and pressed a kiss to his cheek before making his way to bed. He still felt guilty at needing to be cared for by others, but what Max had said made him feel like he was worthy of being cared about. Charles decided he liked the feeling, and he wanted Max to feel loved and cared about too. 

A few minutes later, Max crawled into the small bunk bed beside him. Charles was sure to hold him extra tightly.

* * *

The tender care of Max had Charles' hands healing just fine in a matter of a week or so. He was back to work without any complaints and didn't have to cringe in pain whenever he grabbed anything. Charles played his part as a cog in the machine of the whale ship, rowing for the whaleboats and aiding the crew in the processing of whales and caring for the ship.

Weeks filled with periods of waiting and short bursts of work went by. They were at sea for about a year and a half and on their way to the Southeastern part of Asia, where the plan was to sail through the Bay of Bengal and eventually through the Strait of Malacca. There they once more would stop for a few days to resupply the ship and sell some of what they were ordered to by contract.

Though Charles had never been there before, he had heard a lot about the historic city in his studies and its significance in the world's trade. He was eager to see it for himself and was hoping that everything would go smoothly in the months beforehand.

On the days where they weren't hunting whales or working to process their catch, Charles remained faithful to his chosen tasks of doing laundry and other chores to help keep the ship as spotless as he could. He was perfectly content to scrub posts and wring out clothes during the daytime and curl up with Max at night.

Every day, Charles wore the little ring Max had given him, and he knew Max did the same. It was Charles' favourite thing to look down while he was doing laundry or sitting around in boredom and see the reminder of the man he loved.

Still, there was a lot of empty waiting time even with the domestic tasks, and they had to come up with ways to entertain themselves when there was nothing else left to do. Charles found that Max was less skilled at coming up with new hobbies than he was. Whereas Charles had no issue pulling out a book or finding some other creative way to keep himself occupied, Max had no patience for reading or sitting around. Charles would often look up to see him pacing the deck when he had run out of chores to do and he was too restless to sit down.

Often Max would chatter with Daniel as the second mate worked on his maps and navigational reports. The two of them were close friends and laughing at Daniel's jokes and stories kept Max occupied for a while. Eventually, Max would tire of peering over Daniel's shoulder at maps and legends, and he'd come wandering over to Charles to see what he was doing.

"What are you doing?" Max complained one day, sinking down to sit beside Charles and laying his head on his shoulder.

"I'm reading that book you got me. Some of it sounds more fantastical than real, but it's very entertaining when you're surrounded by nothing like we are," Charles murmured in response, turning the page with his thumb. 

Max frowned and squinted, reading along with him for a few paragraphs before saying, "I just don't get how you can find reading interesting. It's so boring."

Charles folded down the edge of the page and tossed the book onto their bed. He glanced at Max, who was absentmindedly playing with the ring on his finger. Charles smiled softly and tangled their hands together.

"What do you want to do? We could try to come up with something to do for the rest of the evening," Charles said with a shrug. He tried to think of any work that could be done. He had already done the laundry, the crew had essentially polished the ship until it shone, and the sails had been mended to the point where they didn't need a single stitch more. They would just have to invent some work to do, something that Charles had gotten rather good at during his time at sea.

There was a quiet moment as Max was deep in thought. He stroked his thumb against the back of Charles' hand and said, "sometimes the barrels down below get knocked around and need to be stood back up. Let's go organize things below deck." 

It didn't sound fun and it wasn't what Charles considered the most exciting thing, but it gave them something to do. The sun was beginning to set and they scarfed down a bland dinner of molasses and hard tack before Max led him down into the belly of the ship.

Of the different rooms below the deck, the majority were used for storage. The only exceptions were the quarters of the cook, the blacksmith, the captain, and the three mates, all of whom had their own little rooms to live in, separate from the forecastle. Max and Charles shouldered their way into one of the cramped storage rooms.

Some of the barrels and casks had fallen onto their side from the movements of the ship, and the room was in need of some organization. Max and Charles spent a few hours standing them up again and pushing them back into their organized lines. As they worked and talked, it got darker outside, and the only thing lighting the lower part of the ship was a few oil lamps eventually. They heard a few people, presumably those who lived in the small quarters below deck, walk by and settle in for the night. 

"Well then," Charles sighed after they pushed the last barrel back into place, "I guess that took up the rest of the day nicely." 

"I don't feel like going to bed yet though," Max said. He stepped closer to Charles and cupped his cheek in his hand, wrapping his other arm around his waist. Charles smiled and wrapped his arms around Max and leaned in to kiss him.

Charles let his eyes fall shut and drifted into the feeling of Max's lips against his. It was soft and gentle, yet still possessive enough to make Charles lose his train of thought. He felt Max's hand tightly gripping his hip and shuddered, out of breath when they pulled apart and he rested his forehead against Max's.

"Come on," Max breathed out and tugged Charles over to sit down against the wall, pulling him into another kiss. 

The rigid wooden wall behind his back wasn't very comfortable, but Charles found that he didn't care as he let Max part his lips and felt the Dutchman tangle a hand into his hair. Charles whined softly against his lips and leaned forward, shifting closer to Max and gripping at his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of Max against him and he was becoming intoxicated with the familiar taste and feel of him.

Charles was practically leaning across Max when they parted, and Max pulled him to sit in his lap so that Charles was straddling his hips more comfortably. Max pressed a kiss to his cheek and trailed his lips down to his jaw, kissing at his neck while Charles stifled a laugh at the ticklish feeling of his short stubble against his sensitive skin.

He let out a soft noise and closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side and encouraging Max to keep kissing him. Max kept a hand on his lower back and played with the hem of his shirt, and Charles clutched at Max's coat.

"Max.." Charles gasped out. 

Max sat up and ran his hands over Charles' sides, over his chest and shoulders and pulling him into another quick kiss. "We never get to be alone like this, let's treasure what little alone time we have right now," Max said in a low tone in his ear.

A shiver went down Charles' spine and he eagerly nodded his head. Charles pressed their lips together in a rougher kiss and took Max's bottom lip between his, earning a muffled groan from Max. There was little noise except for the sounds of their labored breathing and the wet sound of them kissing deeply, and Charles knew Max was right; they did have very few moments of being genuinely alone and his mind was hazy with possibilities.

As much as he did't want to admit it, Charles knew he was very needy and couldn't resist Max. The thought of making use of their present circumstances was very appealing to him and Charles felt hot all over. 

Max continued playing with the edge of Charles' shirt until he eventually slipped his hand beneath the fabric, stroking at the expanse of his back. Charles moaned into the kiss and pulled away from Max's lips to kiss at his throat. He pressed open mouthed kisses all along Max's neck and wiggled his hips when he could feel Max getting excited beneath him. Charles let out a soft mewl at the feeling and knew he was in much the same scenario, given the fact that every movement pressed his lower body against Max's stomach and provided some much-appreciated friction.

"It's the middle of the night and there's nobody around," Charles whined when he ceased his kisses, sitting up and searching Max's eyes desperately. Charles was too shy to ask for what he would have liked, though the lust clouding his judgment sure gave him some confidence.

"I could take you right here and now and no one would be the wiser," Max purred, teasingly running a hand over Charles' thigh and over the front of his pants. The Monegasque gasped and swallowed thickly.

Max placed another kiss to the side of his neck and Charles ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly and trying to regain his ability to speak clearly. Sitting in Max's lap, Charles could tell that he was just as intrigued by the idea as he was. Charles moaned and hid his face against Max's shoulder when he touched him through his pants, and that was what made him needy enough to finally figure out how to speak again.

"I'd like that, Max, please," Charles begged in a hushed, pleading voice. He looked at Max through lidded eyes and bit his lip, gripping at Max's shoulders.

Max grinned and pulled him in for another kiss. "What's that one saying?" he hummed in between kisses, " _over a barrel_?" 

Charles blushed and stole another kiss from him before saying, "you want to do me over a barrel?"

They were lost in the moment and only focused on one another until there were light footsteps rushing up to the doorframe and a shrill voice calling out. Charles pulled away from Max and crawled off of his lap instantly when he heard it, and the both of them looked up to find Lando standing there with a wide eyed expression, out of breath from having just run over. He looked like he was on the verge of crying and he was clearly in need of something.

The both of them were on their feet in an instant, their heated moment gone and they were pulled back down to earth. Charles felt like someone had dumped cold water over him momentarily as he went from being putty in Max's hands to being concerned for the boy who had interrupted them. 

"Hey, what is it? Why are you crying?" Charles cooed softly, reaching out to dry the tears on his cheeks. Max knelt down and extended his arms out to him, and Lando quieted as he hugged Max. 

"I couldn't sleep because my dads are arguing again, so I was going to see if I could sleep with someone else," Lando sniffled weakly. Even though he was barely nine years old, Lando was still rather small and could be easily picked up; thus Max had no trouble standing up and picking Lando up as he did so. Charles noted the confirmation that the boy was a son to Seb and Kimi, though he knew that this wasn't the time to focus on that.

"Let's go upstairs and you can sleep with us, buddy," Max said with a smile, patting Lando's back comfortingly. Lando wordlessly nodded and clung to Max as the harpooner carried him out of the little storage room and up to the deck, with Charles following close behind.

The three of them piled into Max's bed. The beds were meant to hold one person, and Charles and Max were already rather snug when they were sleeping in it together. With a third person, it was a bit of a tight fit, but Lando was small enough for it to still be comfortable and they made it work. Max and Charles lay facing each other and Lando lay cradled protectively between them.

Charles could feel and hear him crying quietly still. He placed a hand on the young child's back and rubbed soothing circles until Lando fell asleep, his little hands grabbing at Max's shirt and his head resting on his shoulder.

It was a sweet sight, and Charles had a newfound appreciation for Max's parental side as he fell asleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was also sort of just filler content sjsjs the next big plot event happens in the next one 🙊🙊 hehe I just had to include some sweet fluff and I needed content to fill the time gap between the last big plot event and the next one ❤️ anyways I hope it was somewhat enjoyable 🥺


	11. Pulling the Laces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omfg im so sorry I didn't update this for almost 2 and a half months jhhjfs I swear I didn't forget about it ❤️🥺 anyways, here's some notes™️ for this chapter:  
> -a clove hitch is a type of knot used in sailing sjsjs if the description of it doesn't make sense then theres probably photos online somewhere  
> -stays is another term for what we today call a corset!  
> -also, there's a lot of historical myths about corsets. they weren't super uncomfortable and people didn't tie them so tightly that they made them sick/harmed their organs. a well made, well fitted corset provided support for the bust and was generally comfortable and helped with posture  
> -tattooing in the 1840's was mostly done with needles, thorns, basically any sharp object that can pierce the skin. it was still pretty taboo in some parts of the world, but sailors have had a long history of tattooing on trips  
> -the Strait of Malacca was under conflicting Dutch and British rule in the 1840's, I guess you don't really need to know that but shjfhjs idk it might be helpful for context.  
> -there's some drag in this chapter! I have named and described the different garments that Charles wears but just look up an 1840's gown if u don't know what to envision lol
> 
> anyways. :^) this chapter involves a somewhat intimate knot scene, drag, max inventing the trampstamp, and a new character being introduced/smuggled out of a country!! 🥰🥰👉👈 its always fun here at whaler fics incorporated fshhjsjhs
> 
> I was gonna have this be the chapter where there's a bunch of chaos and offscreen death but I wanted to write this shit for some reason.,.,so unthinkable chaos is being rescheduled to the next chapter 🙈🙈 I really didn't have the energy to proofread all of this tbh so im sorry for any autocorrect moments or any stupid mistakes hehe

“Charles, you’ve gotta let me do something about that mop on your head,” Daniel urged him over an early breakfast. 

Charles frowned as he sat on the deck with Daniel and Valtteri, with most of the rest of the crew still being asleep or just beginning to stir. Max was still asleep with Lando protectively underneath his arm when Charles had woken up, and he had decided to get out of bed due to how crowded it felt with three people in a single bunk. 

He ran a hand through his hair that Daniel had been trying to cut for a while. It had gotten rather fluffy and Charles had to often push it out of his eyes while he was working. Internally, Charles knew that he should probably let Daniel cut it, but he was still not too hasty to let the man near him with a pair of scissors that he seemed to brandish a little too energetically. 

“I can do it myself, just give me the scissors and I’ll take care of it,” Charles refused adamantly before taking a bite of a rather salty biscuit. 

“You’ll look stupid if you do it yourself,” Valtteri said with his usual deadpan expression, “nobody has ever made a self-done haircut look clean.” 

Charles sighed and took a long sip of what he was fairly sure was watered-down alcohol. If there was anything that life at sea had given him, it was a much stronger tolerance for alcohol than he had ever thought he would develop. 

“Fine, but if you cut my ear off or something, I’m putting a fishhook in your pillow,” Charles gave in with a roll of his eyes. Daniel grinned and was on his feet in an instant, and Charles bit his lip nervously as he watched him go.

"He managed to make me look decent, he'll make you look fine too. Your hair is dark anyways, it won't show up as much if he fucks it up," Valtteri offered before raising his cup of bland coffee to his lips. The Finn had a point; his own blonde hair didn't look bad and Daniel's barber skills perhaps weren't as terrible as Charles was afraid they were.

When the second mate returned, he had his pair of scissors in hand that had been through their days of both hair cutting and mapmaking. Charles sat still and did his best not to shudder when the slice of the scissors sounded close to his ears. As much as he was nervous about it, Charles did have to admit that it felt relieving to not need to be constantly pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Charles got up off the wooden planks once Daniel ruffled his hair affectionately. He smiled at the sight of Max carrying Lando over his shoulder, the young boy still sleepily yawning. Max looked like he wasn't sure what to do until Sebastian came to his rescue and took Lando from him. 

"You look different," Max said with a curious look, reaching up to run his hand through Charles' hair. He had the sleeves of his linen shirt rolled up and Charles reached down to intertwine their fingers together, pressing himself against Max's arm.

"Daniel finally convinced me to let him cut my hair. I guess I was worried that he'd make me look bad," Charles admitted. He glanced up at the cloudy skies until he saw Max get a strange, almost worried look on his face. Charles cocked his head asked, "what? Did he fuck it up that badly?"

Max shook his head and smiled tensely, squeezing Charles' hand. He opened his mouth to speak before looking down at the toe of his boots, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Charles wondered what on earth he was going to say that was causing him to be so sheepish, and part of him wondered if his haircut was really so bad as to elicit a dead silence from his boyfriend.

"No, it looks fine. The thing is, Dan and I kinda...had a bet," Max winced. He glanced around in hopes of finding the man in question, and he narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips when he finally found him. Daniel must have felt his gaze boring into him, and he turned around and gave Max a cheery smile.

"A bet? What the hell did you bet on?!" Charles cried. He watched as Max waved for Daniel to come over, and judging by Max's embarrassed expression and Daniel's proud smile, Charles was guessing that Max had been on the losing end of said bet.

"I'll let him tell you," Max cringed.

Daniel slung an arm around Max and seemed to have an extra spring in his step. He grinned and began to explain, "Max and I got into a debate about when you'd finally let me cut your hair. I said that I'd eventually convince you, but he didn't think you'd ever agree. So we decided that we should settle it the way every important debate is settled: through a bet."

"And so what happens now? Max lost, so does he pay you or something?" Charles raised an eyebrow and wondered. Max gave Daniel an exasperated look, shrugging his inked arm off of his shoulder.

"Originally it just started off with whoever loses has to get a tattoo when we stop in Malacca. But Max insisted that it was too easy if I lost because I already have tattoos, and so we made the stakes higher, and whoever loses has to get a tattoo and wear a dress for an evening. Like, full on ladies garments, corsets and everything," Daniel said, stifling a laugh at the pouty look Max gave him, "so now your boy is going to be getting a tattoo and a gown."

Charles wasn't quite sure what to make of the whole ordeal at first. He supposed he should have been irritated that his boyfriend and their second mate were betting on his refusal to get a haircut, but the surprise of it all was overshadowed by his intrigue at what had been at stake. Max had clearly not expected to lose, given that he had suggested adding something else for the loser to do. Now the harpooner would have to dress in drag, a term Charles had heard used by male actors putting on petticoats, and get something permanently drawn on his body.

"Oh...well that's...interesting. What are you going to get a tattoo of?" Charles asked. He tried to stifle a laugh at the thought of Max in a dress. While Charles had seen his fair share of men dressed in women's clothing on stage and in art, Max dressing like a woman was one of the last things he had ever expected to see. There also was the tattoo ordeal, and Charles wasn't sure if that was better or worse than dressing in drag. The tattoo was permanent, but wearing a gown would be considerably more noticeable for a few hours.

"I have no idea. But I do know that I'm not getting it on my face or my ass, or anywhere else that would be embarrassing," Max insisted. 

"Well, you've got a few days before we dock, so get thinking," Daniel hummed. He teasingly nudged Max with his elbow before leaving to work on his maps.

Charles gave Max a soft smile when he saw him still looking sad. He leaned into his side and pressed a kiss to his cheek, hoping it wasn't too obvious that he was trying not to laugh at his boyfriend's misfortune. "You shouldn't have taken a bet like that, stupid," he teased, "or at the very least, you should have told me so that I could ensure you wouldn't lose."

"I'm too competitive to turn down something like that, and I have too much honour to rig a bet," Max insisted, his features softening a bit. Charles rolled his eyes fondly and pushed the thought of Max with a tattoo and Max with a dress to the back of his mind as he went off to get his tasks for the day done.

* * *

The dreary day passed by without much happening. Charles spent the bulk of it tucked away in the belly of the ship, taking inventory of what supplies they had on the ship to see what they needed to stock up on when possible.

There wasn't very much that was particularly interesting to him. Charles found sorting through crates and cabinets of food and cooking supplies to be a bit boring; he didn't know enough about agriculture or cooking for sifting through vegetables and hastily prepared biscuits to be anything other than boring to him. Medical supplies were a bit more entertaining. Charles read over each of the labels, some of which were rather faded and worn, and gulped as he looked over the needles meant for suturing wounds, wondering which one Daniel had sewn him up with.

He wasn't sure how much time had gone by or how many things he had sorted through and accounted for when he heard a soft set of footsteps behind him. Charles glanced over his shoulder to see Kimi emerging from the shadows of the narrow hall, leaning in the doorframe and studying Charles with a carefree gaze. From what little he had seen of Kimi, Charles had figured out that this was par for the course with him.

Charles turned back around and wasn't sure if he should say something or not. He couldn't recall one instance where he had been alone with Kimi or even talked to him, and he fumbled through sifting through another crate of hardtack as his captain's eyes bore through his back.

"Um, Captain?" he questioned after a moment, not entirely sure what he was asking.

Kimi took a few strides forward until he was standing next to Charles, who was still knelt on the ground. He stood quietly with his hands folded, watching Charles attempt to close the crate that he finished going through. There was a short silence that followed, one which felt like an eternity to Charles, before he bothered to say anything at all.

"Sebastian likes you?" Kimi said. It came out more like a question than a statement, but Charles wasn't sure what he was supposed to say in response.

"I think so. Did he tell you that he likes me?" Charles murmured. He shuffled to his feet, picking up the paper he had been scrawling numbers onto.

"Not outright, but I'm sure he does from how much he talks to you. And about you, too," Kimi offered. His voice was very low and soft, and it would have almost sounded calming were it not for the unsureness Charles felt about talking to him. Something about a man who locked himself away for much of the days made it odd to be speaking to him one on one.

Charles' heart leapt in his throat. In his mind, he had assumed Sebastian saw him as a nosy youngster who needed to know his place. He certainly would have been justified in that, given that Charles was an inexperienced sailor who had asked his first mate invasive questions. Instead, the man who perhaps knew Sebastian best was saying that he quite liked him. 

"Oh, I didn't know he talked about me. But yes, I have had a few more personal conversations with Seb, I guess he trusts me with that sort of talk because I can um, relate to you and him, if you get what I mean," Charles said. He wasn't sure if Kimi approved of him getting close to Sebastian; the Finn was impossibly hard to read.

"He sees himself in you. You're a young man who, pardon my language, stupidly wandered into sailing, and you fell in love with a snarky harpooner. That's how Seb was too. I should know, I was the harpooner he fell in love with," Kimi's monotone voice went on, and Charles felt his cheeks flush red at the stinging yet accurate description of himself.

Sebastian had never gone into much detail about his and Kimi's past, giving him only a rather vague description of how they met. Kimi's addition to the tale made Charles wonder about what their younger years were like, and if he and Max would grow up to be like the older couple. He could easily picture Max taking on a leadership role like Kimi, but he didn't know if he had the patience that made a good captain. Curling his fingers around the simple ring on his hand, Charles recalled Sebastian warning him not to make the same mistakes that he and Kimi had.

"Does he think I'm..doing okay?" Charles asked shyly, "like, am I making the mistakes he did?"

Kimi's lips turned upward in a slight smile, and he stood there in thought for a moment, like he had to be careful about how he answered. "I don't know. If you were, he would let you know. He cares about you, kid, and from what I know, I think you're doing alright," he said with an air of wisdom that Charles felt the smallest bit assured by.

Charles felt his cheeks flush with warmth, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. Over the past few months, he had grown closer to Sebastian, mostly from their conversations at night but also because he had grown to see Sebastian as a sort of parental figure. Perhaps it was because Charles had met so few people in life who were _like him,_ who lived in secret and knew that they could be criminalized if the truth of their love got out, that he found himself sticking to Sebastian's side more than he had expected he would. 

"Thank you," Charles whispered.

In the back of his mind, he was sure that he'd likely never get to have this sort of intimate confrontation with Kimi again. It was so rare that the captain emerged from his hiding spots for long enough to do anything other than give orders or help with a whale hunt, and Charles wasn't about to go looking for him. Kimi was a bit like a deer, Charles thought, you couldn't approach him without him fleeing, and it was best to wait for him to approach on his own.

"I'll let you get back to your canned goods there," Kimi murmured, nodding at the next crate in front of Charles. He turned on his heel and was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

Charles blinked a few times and knelt back down on the ground. He briefly recounted the conversation he had just had as he mindlessly sorted items, wondering how he had gotten such a wrong impression of how Sebastian viewed him. Eventually he got through the crates and moved on to a shoddily crafted cabinet that stood in the corner of one of the supply rooms. Undoing the knot that kept the small doors shut, Charles found a myriad of nets, fishhooks, and lamps that weren't in use.

Someone shouted down to him to come up for dinner right as he finished folding the nets back up to put them away. He quickly scribbled down the number of everything he found in the cabinet, and went to tie the door handles together again. No matter how he tried to tie the cut section of rope, Charles couldn't get it to stay shut. 

With a frown, Charles decided to just leave it for now and get back to trying to secure it after he scarfed down something for dinner. Hopefully the ship wouldn't encounter any turbulence and the cabinet's contents wouldn't spill out before then, he prayed as he climbed up to the top deck.

He settled next to Max, accepting a plateful of what appeared to be salted pork and blackstrap molasses from the cook along the way. Max made a face as he poked at the molasses, but he ate it regardless and his expression relaxed when Charles stood next to him, nestling himself against Max's side in the cool night air.

"Did you have fun taking inventory?" Max teased, pressing his cold nose against Charles' cheek momentarily before pressing a brief kiss to his skin. Even in the warmer climates that they occasionally sailed through, the nights were still quite cold most of the time. Charles squeaked at the cold feeling and tried to ignore the saltiness of the thick molasses that he swallowed as Max kissed him.

"As much fun as it's possible to have while counting things in boxes. I couldn't get the drawers of some cabinet tied shut though, so I have to go back down there and fight with the rope again after I'm finished here," Charles said grimly. He choked down the pork as best as he could and gladly accepted a drink Max offered him, the watery coffee helping to wash the salt down his throat.

"Mhm, let me help you," Max offered, "I'll bet you've somehow managed to go all this time without being taught how to properly tie any type of knot."

When they were done with the ship's salty rations, Charles followed Max down to the troublesome cabinet, where the doors still hung open and the nets at least had stayed on their shelves. Max knelt down in front of it and pulled the rope dangling uselessly from the handles. Beckoning for Charles to sit next to him, he inspected the worn material of the thick rope.

"This is a bit too thick to stay in the way you were likely trying to tie it. There's a whole bunch of different ways that you tie ropes off on ships, and they all have pretty different purposes. I'll just teach you something basic for now so that you have some idea of what to do if you ever need to tie anything else,' Max instructed. 

Charles watched as he twisted the rope as he talked, the slight movement of the muscles in his hands capturing his attention. He thought it was a bit funny how despite having such a rough job, despite having to pick splinters out of his palms from clutching harpoons, despite washing his hands free of blood so often, Max's hands were still very soft to the touch. Or at least they were to Charles, as he enjoyed Max's hands resting on his skin while they lay in bed or when he brushed something off of Charles' face. The little ring on Max's finger shone softly in the lamplight, and it made the butterflies in Charles' stomach flutter.

It also occurred to him that he should pay attention unless he wanted to look like an idiot when tying things in the future. Charles blinked and shook the thoughts from his head when he realized that Max was giving him a confused look.

"Sorry, I spaced out," Charles muttered.

"No worries. Anyways, I'll show you what's called a clove hitch. Usually it's used to tie other ropes together or to the side of a boat, but it will keep this cabinet closed just fine," Max hummed. He pushed the cabinet drawers closed and began to explain as he tied the rope around the handles, "first, you make a full loop around whatever you're securing the line to."

Charles watched him make a loop and then cross the end of the rope over itself as he made a second loop next to the first. He tucked the end beneath the second loop and pulled it taught, murmuring, "and then, you just tie a second loop that crosses over itself and tuck the working end of the rope beneath the second loop. Pull both ends of the rope, and there you have a secure knot."

Max tugged on the end of the rope he had just tucked under and undid the knot, handing the rope over to Charles. "Give it a try," he said, "you might need to practice a few times before you've got it done right."

Charles took the bit of rope and tried his best to recall what he had seen Max do. He hesitantly began by creating a loop over the drawer handles, unsure of what to do next. When he incorrectly began to wrap the rope around the drawer handles again, Max chuckled and put his hands over top of Charles'. Just like he had been thinking a few moments earlier, his hands were warm and inviting.

"Cross it over the first loop, then curl it around again," Max said as he guided Charles' hands in the right direction, essentially tying it for him.

Charles felt his cheeks get warm from embarrassment and from the feeling of his hands being held. He let Max finish tying the knot for him, leaving the cabinet tied nicely shut.

"Now undo it and tie it again," Max said once they were finished.

With a tired sigh, Charles tugged on the rope until the knot came undone, the cabinet once more slightly ajar. He was able to tie the knot correctly on his own and in a reasonable time too. Charles felt the tiniest bit proud; he always had been told he was a fast learner after all. He thought it was a bit extra of Max to make him retie it twice more after that, but he also figured that he'd rather be well practiced in tying ropes than end up being responsible for losing something that was meant to be secured to the ship.

Max extended a hand to help him off the ground. Charles didn't realize how tired he was until he stood up and followed Max, stifling a yawn as he climbed the stairs from below deck. He put a hand in his pocket and pulled out the lists of materials he had taken during the day, remembering that he should probably give it to Sebastian instead of letting it get washed with his clothes.

"I'll be right back, I have to give the inventory list to Sebastian," Charles said while Max began to take off his coat.

He crept back down below deck and through the narrow halls. As he expected, Sebastian's designated room was empty, and so he softly knocked on Kimi's door instead. There was a brief wait that passed before the door creaked open slightly, and Sebastian peered out, looking more relaxed when he saw who it was and he opened the door for Charles.

"I have the list of the ship's inventory," Charles murmured as he pulled it out of his pocket. Over Sebastian's shoulder, he could see Lando fast asleep on the bed, with Kimi seated at his desk and pouring over a book. 

"Thank you, kid," Sebastian quietly accepted it from him, folding it neatly. He glanced over his shoulder at Lando, the young boy managing to be sprawled over the bed, which was considerably larger and nicer than the bunks the crew slept in. Charles supposed it made sense for the captain to have somewhere nicer to sleep, even if he was slightly jealous at the thought of sleeping on an actual mattress each night.

"And thank you for taking care of Lando last night. He doesn't like it when Kimi and I get upset, and I'm just glad he has someone else who he felt safe enough with," Sebastian went on. The emotion in his voice was matched by the inkling of a tear in the corner of his eyes, which he brushed away on the back of his hand.

Charles smiled and said, "yeah, it was no trouble. He's a good kid." The conversation that he had had with Kimi earlier came back to him and Charles was still a little bit surprised when Sebastian pulled him close to hug him for a moment. He gladly wrapped his arms around the first mate and squeezed him tightly. It was nice to have someone other than Max who he felt close to, not that he didn't love Max or treasure their relationship. Sebastian was becoming almost like a parent figure to him and Charles was happy to embrace it, and the man himself.

"Go get some sleep now," Sebastian said, patting his shoulder fondly. 

He nodded and did his best to quietly trek back up the stairs and into the crew's cabin area. Max was still in the process of getting undressed, pulling his shirt off and leaving the bare expanse of his back exposed to Charles. It made him wonder where Max would get his tattoo; Charles stifled a laugh as he pictured Max with a tattoo on his back. 

Once the two of them were dressed in soft bedclothes, Charles lay underneath the sheets next to Max. He tucked himself neatly underneath Max's arm, resting his head against his chest and feeling Max hook an arm around his waist. The heat from his lover's body did more to keep him warm than the blankets did, and Charles easily fell asleep while thinking of Max with a tattoo.

* * *

A week later, Charles found himself in a bar in Malaysia one late night. In the very early hours of dawn, the ship had pulled into the vast harbor of the Strait of Malacca. They were to stop and stay for a few days once more, and this time Charles wasn't fighting off a debilitating injury, and so he was fully involved in hauling barrels of oil off the ship. Sebastian had made a stern point of letting the men know that they had little time to spare since the squall had knocked them a days off course, and they were supposed to leave in two days to maintain their original schedule.

Just like their previous port stop, Malacca was a rather international city. Charles saw people from all different nations, speaking all different languages, and worshipping a variety of religions. The Islamic architecture brought him back briefly to his days at college, where he had read so much history and seen drawings of buildings like those he passed by. 

Daniel had dragged him along with Max and Valtteri to the nearest bar once they were done with their work for the day. Despite his best attempts to convince him, Checo refused to come along, and they didn't even try to get Sebastian or Kimi to come. Charles was sure that Kimi would have gladly come along for the promise of alcohol, but he wasn't sure if Sebastian wanted his partner stolen away on one of the few nights where they got to sleep on land together.

After a few hours, Charles was feeling the effects of having a few drinks. Whatever Daniel had ordered for him, it was much stronger than what they drank aboard the ship most of the time. He hadn't questioned it and the whole group of them were a bit giggly after having three drinks. Valtteri remained his usual calm, quiet self though, and Charles was convinced that the man was better at holding his alcohol than he ever could be.

"You know what time it is now, right Max?" Daniel changed the subject with a teasing tone after downing the rest of his drink. Max raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes.

Charles had been hoping that the Australian had forgotten about his bet with Max. Luck wasn't in his favor it seemed, although he wasn't the one who had anything to lose from the bet. 

"Look, I can almost bear the tattoo because no one's gonna fucken see it, 'cept for Charles probably," Max said, his speech slightly slurred, and he threw an arm over Charles' shoulders, "but do I have to wear a dress? I'll look so stupid and dresses look so uncomfortable."

"Aw, come on Maxy, don't flake out on a bet. You said that whoever lost had to wear a dress for an evening, and I said that whoever lost had to get a tattoo, and you lost fair and square," Daniel pouted. He lightly pushed at Max's shoulder to emphasize his point.

Max looked like he was about to argue something further, and a random thought popped into Charles' semi-drunken mind. It might have been from the alcohol or it might have been his subconscious wanting to put the argument to an end and get Max out of the embarrassment, but Charles suddenly blurted out, "what if I wore the dress? I wear a dress while Max gets a tattoo."

Daniel and Max both broke out into a big grin at his proposal. If he were one of the many people who cared about traditional ideas of masculinity, perhaps Charles would have been embarrassed about wearing women's clothing. But he didn't care that much for it, and so he didn't utter any complaint when Daniel and Max dragged him and Valtteri out of the bar shortly after in search of a tailor's shop.

It didn't take long to find one. There was a mix of global fashion inside, and Charles admittedly spent a few minutes looking at dresses from places he had never been to before. Dan and Max whispered amongst themselves and pulled him along to the dresses that resembled those which British ladies wore. Valtteri trailed along slowly with them.

A young man with a concerned look approached them as they giggled over the different dresses. Charles hadn't considered how amusing it probably was to have a group of half-drunk sailors wandering around a women's clothing shop until he saw the look on who he assumed was the shopkeeper's apprentice's face. He looked a bit too young to own the shop, Charles decided.

"Can I help you?" the apprentice asked, his lilting voice sounding similar to those Charles grew up around, "my name is Pierre."

"Um, we need a dress...er, _I_ need a dress," Charles said, correcting himself when Daniel gave him a look. 

"Alright. Excuse me for being presumptive, but you don't know much about dresses, yeah?" Pierre asked politely. When the whole group of them shook their head, Pierre smiled softly and beckoned for Charles to follow him.

"Come show us when you've got it on," Max hollered after them. Charles could hear him continuing to laugh over the whole circumstance with Daniel, and he smiled a bit at hearing them sound so happy, even if it was somewhat at his expense.

Pierre let him back to a section of fine dresses, each folded nicely with its different parts and undergarments that Charles didn't even know the names of. He looked at them in awe, gulping when he saw the prices. One thing they hadn't considered was if they could even afford a gown for Max, or rather himself, to wear, and Charles wondered how on earth they were going to get him out of the shop in a gown.

"Is there any particular colour, fabric style, or pattern that you're looking for?" Pierre asked. He gestured to a variety of dresses, some of which were cotton, silk, or a combination of materials. 

"Um, I don't know. I just need a dress for a night," Charles mumbled. He reached out and brushed a hand over the fine fabric of a simple red dress and said, "so whatever you think would look alright on me, I guess."

"Are you an actor?" Pierre asked as he picked up the dress that Charles was holding. It came in two pieces, the skirt and the bodice, and they were folded neatly like everything else that was pre-made in the store. 

Charles shook his head, and Pierre raised an eyebrow and said, "...a prostitute?"

"God, no! My...friend lost a bet, and part of it was that he had to wear a dress for a night. I offered to take the fall for him," Charles cried out, blushing. 

Pierre let out a hum, and shoved the folded gown into Charles' arms. He began to sift through piles of underskirts and said, "go to the back of the store and wait in one of the fitting rooms. I'll get the garments you'll need to wear underneath it and then come help you get dressed."

Charles awkwardly searched around the store with the gown in his arms until he found a few cubicles that were sectioned off with curtains. He ducked beneath one of the curtains and found himself in a little room with a chair, a mirror, and a little step stool for patrons to stand on while they got their measurements taken. It was rather obvious that most of the customers came to get dresses tailored specifically for themselves, but Charles didn't have the time, patience, or need to have a dress made for himself. He could do just fine for a few hours in a working class gown.

He stood with the dress in his arms, looking at himself in the mirror until Pierre ducked into the room with him. In his arms were skirts, what looked like a nightgown, and stays that Charles was unsure about wearing.

"It'll be most comfortable if you have the proper undergarments on," Pierre explained when he saw the hesitant look on Charles' face, "so pull your clothes off. I'll help you into these."

Charles pulled his coat, shirts, and pants off, letting them fall to the floor. Nowadays he had become quite desensitized to being undressed in front of others, and he recalled the days where he had been so shy about it when he first started working on the ship. 

The first layer that Pierre got him into was a chemise, a simple, loose-fitting white linen dress that felt soft on his bare skin. There was a pair of stockings with an embroidered design on the sides to hide the seam, and Charles had never before known how intricate women's close were. Once the chemise hung loosely on his frame and he had the stockings pulled up to his knees, Pierre picked up the corset and instructed Charles to turn around.

"Do up the buttons on the front of this. A corset is meant to flatten the front of the body and support the bust, but obviously you don't really need that part so I'll have to tighten the laces after you button it up," Pierre said to him as Charles put his arms through the straps of the corset.

It was laced up loosely in the back and opened at the front, and Charles closed the buttons on the front. The layers of cotton were held stiff by the baleen from whales, something that Charles had spent hours removing from carcasses aboard their ship. It was stiff and supportive but not uncomfortable, and Charles could still breathe just fine, contrary to the myths that some liked to spread about corsetry. Pierre waited until he was finished closing the buttons to start pulling the lacing tighter. The ribbon lacing was tied in a neat bow and tucked into itself once it was pulled taught, hugging Charles' torso nicely.

He looked up at himself in the mirror. The corset gave him a more hourglass like figure, although it wasn't as even looking on him as it looked on a woman. Charles was surprised to find that he looked somewhat decent so far.

"I'm going to put two petticoats on you. They'll give the skirt more definition and keep your legs warm," Pierre said quietly. 

The first petticoat was a quilted skirt, made with two layers of fabric sewn together that fell to just above Charles' ankles. Pierre pulled the drawstring of the waist until it was perfectly fitted to Charles', and he tied the string in a little bow that rested on Charles' lower back. Next was a much shorter and lighter linen petticoat, made of white thin fabric like the chemise. It had strips of boning that went around the hemline to keep its rounded shape. 

"This is a chemisette, it will help cover the top of the corset," Pierre hummed. He draped a pleated white fabric over Charles' chest and shoulders, tying it behind his neck. Charles thought it looked more like a fancy bib, but Pierre insisted that it was to fill in the neckline.

"Now just step into the dress. It closes with hooks and eyes in the back, so just stand still while I close those after you've got it on," Pierre instructed, picking up the dress from where it sat folded on the seat of the chair.

The cotton dress fit nicely over his layers of undergarments, and the pleated skirt over the petticoats made him look rather elegant, or at least that's what Charles thought. The waistline hit right where the petticoats were tied, and the neckline ended just slightly above his collarbones, with the ruffled edges of the chemisette poking out. The sleeves came down to his wrists, fitted but not restricting. He stood patiently while Pierre connected the hook and eye closures that ran down his back, and then he was properly dressed up.

"Well, there you go," Pierre stepped back to let Charles look solely at himself in the mirror.

The dress was a dark red shade, and there was no pattern to the fabric. There was only one exception to the monotone colour of the dress, and that was a thin line of embroidered design on the hemline of the skirt. Charles smoothed the front of the dress and looked at himself from the side. He was naturally rather slender, and the shape of the corset and skirts made him look much softer and feminine. Were it not for his facial hair and shoddily done haircut, Charles thought he would have made a rather convincing middle class woman.

"I didn't think it would be this comfortable," Charles admitted as he stepped off the small step stool. His own clothes and shoes still lay on the floor, and Charles slipped his shoes back on. 

"I'll get a parcel for your clothes to go in. Go show your friends," Pierre nodded to the pile of clothing on the floor.

Charles took a breath before walking out of the dressing room. He was concerned that he'd trip over the layers of skirts, but it was relatively easy to walk in, managing to be less constricting than regular pants were. It took a minute of wandering the store in the outfit before he found the three of them. They were looking at the corsets, with Max laughing and poking the breasts of a mannequin.

"Um, hello," Charles uttered to get their attention. 

They stood and stared at him, and Charles didn't know what to do under the intense scrutiny; he momentarily considered doing a spin to let them see it from all angles. Max put a hand over his mouth and looked him up and down, Daniel smiled and crossed his arms, and Valtteri just stood there, slightly tilting his head and shrugging a moment later.

"Aw, don't you look lovely," Daniel cooed, coming closer to Charles to feel the fabric of the dress, "man, he really made you look different."

Max reached out for Charles and embraced him, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek and running his hands down Charles' arms. He eventually threaded their fingers together and kissed the back of Charles' hands.

"Now you really can be my wife," Max joked, and Charles couldn't help but smile dumbly at him.

All Valtteri bothered to offer was, "you look better than Max would have."

The four of them stood there and fawned over the dress, with Charles shamelessly lifting the dress' skirt to show them the layers of petticoats that he had on. He was just in the middle of explaining how the corset had been put on when Pierre popped up next to him, handing Charles a folded parcel containing his original clothes. Charles took it and frowned as he remembered that they most likely couldn't afford the dress.

"Ah, I don't think we can really pay for all this, so perhaps I should just change back into my regular clothes," Charles said, and he saw Pierre look around the store as if he was trying to see that nobody was listening or watching.

"Listen, I'll make you a deal. You're all sailors right?" Pierre asked, to which the four of them nodded. He went on, "well, I've been working here for multiple years now as an apprentice. My contract doesn't end for a few more years but I'm desperate to leave. I always wanted to work in fashion and I thought I was getting a great opportunity when I was offered to work overseas in a commercial tailoring shop. I'd rather drown my boss in the harbor than work another day with him."

"If you let me come with you, we can just leave and you won't have to pay for the dress," Pierre said in a hurry. He was clearly on edge and wanted to leave, and Charles had no reason to not let him come along, even if it really wasn't up to him. He looked to Daniel, given that he was the highest authority of their little group.

"So, we steal the dress and smuggle you out of the country on a whaling ship?" Daniel clarified, raising an eyebrow, "that sounds beyond illegal."

Pierre nodded and said, "it would be illegal. But nobody's around and my boss wouldn't notice until we're long gone. It's just one dress anyways, the company isn't making a huge loss." 

There were a few seconds where Charles thought that Daniel was going to refuse. But he eventually grinned and said, "I'm in. Come on, we'll figure out a way to sneak you past Sebastian and Kimi."

Pierre let out a relieved gasp and wiped at his eyes, as if he hadn't been expecting for him to agree. He darted away and returned a moment later with a coat and his wallet, looking over his shoulder once more to make sure that his boss was gone for the day and nobody would notice him leaving for what nobody else knew was the last time. When the coast was clear, he took a breath and beckoned for them to follow him out of the tailor's shop. 

Charles blushed and rolled his eyes when Max extended his arm to him, looping his arm through Max's to walk arm in arm down the street. 

"Now on to get that tattoo, Max," Daniel sung, clapping him on the back. Max let out an irritated grumble but went along with it, searching through the city for somewhere that offered the art of inking human skin.

It took them a little while longer, but eventually, Valtteri found a woodcarving and printing shop, where slipping a few coins into the artists hands meant that one could get tattooed, much to his dismay.

* * *

Charles didn't remember much of the night beyond being pulled into the printing shop. He had vague memories of watching Max sit in a chair with his shirt rolled up, and wincing when the needle first penetrated his skin. Charles remembered standing in a corner in his dress with Pierre at his side, whispering in excited French with their new runaway friend. 

It been hours until they were done for the night, and Charles figured that it had been well beyond midnight when they finally hauled themselves back to their lodgings. What exactly happened after that, Charles wasn't quite sure. All that he could remember was lips on his neck, the dress being pulled off of him, and the knowledge that he was probably going to be a bit hungover in the morning.

There were a few things that caught his attention when he woke up rather late the next morning. Charles groaned as he pushed himself up to sit up on the bed, a headache making him lay down again a few seconds later.

He was still wearing some of the women's undergarments. The dress itself and both of the petticoats had been discarded, in a disorganized pile on the floor. Charles still wore the chemise, the stockings, and the corset, with the hem of the chemise riding up his thighs. 

Looking over beside him, Charles saw Max still sleeping soundly. He was laying on his stomach with his shirt thrown on the floor, and so Charles got a clear view of the tattoo on his lower back, and he bit back a laugh as he recalled Max saying that he didn't want to get a tattoo anywhere embarrassing. Right on his lower back was a cleanly inked tattoo of an anchor, and there was a frog sitting on one side of it. Charles didn't know what had inspired the frog part, but he leaned closer to see the tattoo before laying back down when he ache in his head got to be too much.

What surprised him the most was when he rolled over to face the other way, Charles discovered that Pierre was in bed with him and Max. Charles let his eyes wander over the Frenchman's body, trying to recall how it ended up with the three of them crowded in one bed.

Eventually Charles felt like he was too hungover to be processing everything. He rolled back over to nuzzle his nose against Max's bare shoulder and let himself fall back asleep. Life could wait for a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did charles and max have threesome with pierre while wearing a corset and stockings????????? Who Is To Say :o) ✌️
> 
> ALSO i wrote a spin-off of this fic called ‘the sea is a safe place to leave your heart’, it’s a little prequel about seb and kimi sjsjs its part one of the series this is in 🥺👉👈

**Author's Note:**

> as always you can find me on Tumblr @esteboo-ocon :)


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